


Finding A Way Home

by Kyuketsuki_of_Gallifrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALL of the fluff and angst, BAMF!Hermione, Battle of Hogwarts, Be prepared to cry your heart out, Depression, Draco you're so in love with Harry it's not even funny, Everyone is gay except Ron, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Not broken just coping, Oblivious!Harry, Pining Draco Malfoy, Sass Queen!Pansy, Sassy!Draco, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Sod the world save yourself, artist!draco, auror!Ron, author!Harry, healer!Draco, like so slow it almost hurts, very slow slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 121,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyuketsuki_of_Gallifrey/pseuds/Kyuketsuki_of_Gallifrey
Summary: Harry has survived so much, but not entirely unscathed. His physical wounds may have healed, but the psychological toll of being raised by people who hated him and being "The Chosen One" runs deeper than anyone (Even Harry himself) knows.  Will he be able to find his way home? With some help from unexpected allies, he just might.TRIGGER WARNING: This fic centers around depression and some chapters may include self-harm! Read at your own risk!Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I intend to make any profit off of this work
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Everybody, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Harry Potter/Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 119
Kudos: 201





	1. Where bloody, Saint Potter can’t be bothered to retaliate against his arch nemesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexClio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexClio/gifts), [SandZhark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandZhark/gifts).



> This is a fic inspired by a Tumblr post. It will be roughly 20 chapters.  
> Disclaimer: Some dialogue is taken directly from the books. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goblet of Fire makes a mistake that changes the course of history. Harry is forced into a binding magical contract and forced to participate in a deadly tournament.  
> Draco is forced to admit something he'd rather not think about. Ever. But now that he knows there is no getting around it. Damn his interfering best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first fic.  
> This entire work is written based on the assumption that you are familiar with canon. If you have not watched the Harry Potter movies or read the books, you will become very lost very quickly. If you haven't watched or read them in a while, I try to hint at the major plot points that I gloss over in an effort to make this fic a reasonable length instead of 200 chapters long.  
> Some of the dialogue for this fic is taken directly from the books. If it isn't broken, why fix it? I do not own Harry Potter nor do I intend to make any money off of these characters.  
> With all that out of the way, I hope you enjoy it! I'm having a lot of fun writing this fic and I hope it makes you happy too!

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry happily welcomed Russian and French students into its halls for its extravagant Halloween feast for the first time in centuries. Live bats, jack-o-lanterns, and hundreds of floating candles set the ambiance for what was possibly the most exciting thing to happen to Hogwarts since the Chamber of Secrets had been opened two years prior. Hosting the Tri-Wizard tournament was a prestigious honor and the time for the champions to be chosen had come at last. The entire hall exploded with the cheers of each school as their champion was chosen. The Tri-Wizard tournament had officially begun and the atmosphere was positively crackling with electricity. Those who had entered and had not been chosen nursed their bruised egos while the rest of the students chattered excitedly.

No one noticed as the wooden goblet wreathed in flame let loose one last lonely strip of parchment. 

The entire great hall did notice, however, when Dumbledore called out a name. He managed to sound both angry and incredulous and just a little bit fearful as he uttered those four fated syllables. 

"Harry Potter."

Dread dripped into Draco's heart at the Headmaster's words.

It was impossible. It was supposed to be over.

They had their three. Why did things like this always happen to Harry Potter? He swore softly under his breath as the Great Hall erupted into chaos. It seemed as if the entire school was booing and hissing as a shell-shocked Harry stood and made the long trek up to the staff table. Pansy shot him a curious look and he frowned, shaking his head.

“Of course, ‘The Prat Who Lived’ figured out how to compete.” Blaise sneered and the rest of the fourth years snorted in agreement.

“As if a Hufflepuff champion wasn’t bad enough.” Daphne grimaced. “Now we have to deal with a Gryffindor champion too?”

“He couldn’t just let one year go by where he isn’t the center of attention, could he?” Theo scowled into his pumpkin juice.

“Did you see his face? He looked properly shocked. I don’t think he wanted this.” Pansy huffed impatiently.

Draco shot her a grateful glance and she winked. Pansy Parkinson was ruthless, bossy, tenacious, and manipulative, but she was a damn good friend. She was also cunning, brilliant, dedicated, and loyal to a fault. She always knew exactly what Draco needed without him having to ask. Merlin only knows how they ended up as such close friends, but he was eternally grateful that they had. 

“Well, then how do you suppose he got chosen?” Tracy seemed equal parts annoyed and genuinely curious.

“Don’t be daft, Tracy.” Pansy scoffed. “It’s called the TRI wizard tournament. There are only supposed to be three champions. Do you honestly think Potter is smart enough to trick the Goblet? He can’t even do a simple summoning charm right.”

“Besides, the Age Line Dumbledore made was foolproof. Adrian Pucey tried taking an aging potion so he could get past it and it chucked him out. There is no way Potter was smart enough to get past the age line.” Draco drawled.

“I remember the beard it gave him,” Blaise smirked. “bless him for fleeing to the common room instead of the hospital wing. I would have been loath to have missed that!”

“Can you imagine if he was picked?” Pansy snickered. “I’m all for a Slytherin champion, but Pucey is thicker than Greg and Vincent put together.”

The group all glanced down the table at Greg and Vince. They were comparing sweets that they had stolen before the plates had been cleared, arguing over which one had the best dessert. Draco doubted they had even noticed that the champions had been chosen, let alone the uproar Harry's name coming out of the goblet caused. They were off in their own little world where the most important thing was grabbing the biggest piece of marzipan. 

“Good point.” Tracy wrinkled her nose. “I heard Cassius Warrington put his name in. Would have been great if he had been chosen.”

“Are you kidding? They would never be able to accept a Slytherin champion.” Draco snorted bitterly. “I’m honestly shocked the real Hogwarts champion wasn’t a Gryffindor. Something to be said about the goblet being impartial, I suppose. Dumbledore would have never picked a Hufflepuff over someone from his old house. Biased git.”

"Maybe Dumbledore put Potter's name in to ensure a Gryffindor champion and it backfired." Theo laughed, trying to relieve the tension.

It earned a couple snorts of laughter and dramatic eye rolls before Dumbledore reappeared, taking his place at the podium. Silence fell almost immediately as they all waited for him to explain.

“Some of you might be, understandably, upset over tonight's events." Dumbledore leveled the entire hall with a quelling gaze as if daring someone to argue. "It is with great displeasure that I announce the tournament will proceed as planned. The goblet constitutes a binding magical contract that cannot be broken. Therefore, all four champions will be competing. I suggest we all take the time to retire, reflect, and get a good night's sleep.”

Dumbledore looked rather stressed as he stepped back from the podium and rushed out of the great hall. It was a testament to his mental state that the speech was so short. While Dumbledore never gave particularly superfluous speeches it was obvious that this one had been cut quite short.

The deafening scraping of benches against stone rang through the hall as agitated chatter began buzzing once more. The Durmstrang students were the only ones not gossiping. They all looked disappointed but resigned as they followed the Slytherins out into the entrance hall. They probably knew that they stood little chance at being picked over Krum. The goblet might not know he was famous, but Krum was clever and performed well under pressure. You would have to be both cunning and brave to be a seeker good enough to play in the Quidditch World Cup. Draco shook his head, trying to resolutely ignore the glaring similarities between Krum and a certain Gryffindor. It really shouldn’t have been a shock that they were both chosen. He turned his attention back to his friends, only to find that he had missed half of a conversation.

“...and it could say ‘Support Diggory, The Real Hogwarts Champion’. Can you imagine Potter’s face when he sees it?” Blaise was gushing, a manic grin making his dark eyes ignite like smoldering embers.

“I like the idea, but the execution is all wrong.” Pansy rolled her eyes, tucking her dark brown hair behind her ear. “A big banner would never work. The teachers would just take it down.”

“Maybe we could write it on the walls. You know, chamber of secrets style? The whole school saw that! And it stayed up all year.” Blaise retorted.

“No way. I am not vandalizing the school. And neither are you!” Daphne admonished, tousling his hair affectionately.

“Yes, dear.” He grumbled, slinging his arm around Daphne’s shoulder.

“I could make buttons.” Draco interjected thoughtfully.

“Buttons?” Tracy arched her eyebrow at him sardonically.

“Yeah, like those ones all of the first years keep putting all over their book bags with funny little sayings and pictures on them. I’m sure they can’t be too hard to make.” He shrugged.

“We could pin them to our robes! There is nothing in the school rules against wearing accessories on our uniforms.” Pansy crowed gleefully. “Great idea, Draco!”

“Brilliant.” Blaise smirked appreciatively over Daphne’s head.

“Alright, so we are making ‘Support Diggory’ buttons. It’s decided then.” Theo flashed Draco a small smile as they arrived at their common room entrance.

Other than Pansy, Theo was Draco’s closest friend. He was the quiet one of their group, preferring to listen and observe. His habit of watching people made him dangerous. If he and Pansy ever teamed up, with Pansy’s tenacity and uncanny ability to get her way, they would be unstoppable.

“Deora Ar Mo Chroi.” Tracy barked at the blank stretch of stone wall in front of them. The wall shimmered and then disappeared, revealing their common room.

“Of course it’s packed.” Daphne sighed when she caught sight of the couches and study tables.

It looked like the entire house was there, making the muted green light seem even dimmer. The older students had commandeered the sofas and armchairs by the fire, talking quietly amongst themselves. The study tables were overrun with second and third years and even the first years were milling about. The fourth years trooped up to the boy’s dormitories by silent consent, still chattering excitedly about buttons. Pansy joined Draco on his bed as everyone settled in.

“I saw that back there.” She said quietly, pointedly avoiding his gaze. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”

“This bloody tournament was discontinued two centuries ago because the death toll was getting too high. Of course I’m worried.” Draco hissed out of the side of his mouth.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” She muttered.

“We are not doing this right now.” Draco shot her a venomous glare. The others were still chattering away so the chances of being overheard were slim. All the same, he didn’t want to give them a reason to question him.

“Later then.” Pansy snipped, leaving him no choice in the matter. Draco sighed as the room filled with the sound of his friends' excited laughter.

“So are we making these buttons or what?” Blaise said loudly, passing around a bottle of contraband fire whiskey.

Draco sighed, taking a large gulp and wincing slightly at the taste. It was possibly the most bitter thing he had ever tasted and it burned down his throat. It must be the good stuff. Cheap fire whiskey usually didn’t hurt to swallow. He passed it to Pansy and rolled up his sleeves.

“Let's get down to business.” Draco smirked, rubbing his hands together as an unnatural warmth seeped into his veins.

It spread like wildfire and suddenly he no longer cared about his worries. When the bottle came back around to him he took a hearty swig, enjoying the feeling of his head growing fuzzy as his whole body relaxed for the first time in months.  
***

“No, no wait! We should make them say ‘Potter Stinks’ too!” Blaise snorted, almost falling over from laughing so hard.

“And I can charm it to make the insult worse the more you try to fix it!” Draco sniggered, his head swimming.

“Bloody brilliant, mate.” Theo grinned appreciatively, picking up one of the half-made buttons and throwing it at Draco’s face.

He missed by about a foot and the button fell to the floor with a soft clatter. Theo brushed off their teasing, blaming his bad aim on the booze as Draco fell back in laughter. Draco looked up at Pansy with a stupid grin and she rolled her eyes, pushing him off her lap.  
***

“Pans, I’m fine.” Draco whined as she force-fed him water.

“No, you’re bloody well not!” She snipped, slamming the water down on Draco’s bedside table. “I knew breaking out that third bottle was a bad idea.” Pansy huffed, grabbing Draco by the collar and dragging him to the showers.

Once they were safely in the communal bathroom that the fourth years shared she led him to the closest shower stall and dumped him unceremoniously in the middle of the floor. Draco groaned as he tried to sit up, holding his head in his hands.

“Ow. You made the room spin.” He griped, managing to pull himself halfway up before collapsing back onto the shower floor.

“No, I didn’t.” She removed both of their robes with a lazy flick of her wand and hung them on the hook provided in the stall. “You did when you took those last three shots, you prat.”

She resigned herself to the fact that her uniform shirt and Slytherin skirt were going to get soaked and turned the water on as cold as it would go. Draco yelped as the water hit him, trying desperately to scramble away from the icy deluge.

“Oi! Let me out of this bloody shower or I swear I-” he started to snarl as Pansy moved to block the exit.

“No.” She said in a dangerously calm voice, violet eyes flashing. “You, Draco Lucius Malfoy, are not going anywhere until we’ve had a nice proper chat. Alright?”

Draco gulped. Even utterly pissed he knew better than to cross Pansy when she used that tone. He nodded quickly to show he understood and sat back against the shower wall.

“Alright.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as the frigid water continued to cascade over them.

“Is the room still spinning?” She asked in a slightly milder tone.

It was her way of letting him know she was still angry, but that she still cared about him too. He dropped his hand to his lap and blinked rapidly.

“No.” He sighed.

“Is literally everything still one big joke to you?” She shot him a sharp glance as she slid down the wall next to him and sat down.

“No.”

“Can you form a coherent thought?”

“No.”

“Perfect. That means you’re sobered up just enough to talk about Potter.” A mischievous smirk played at her full lips and Draco let his shoulders sag in defeat.

“What’s there to talk about?” he glared sullenly at the shower drain, watching the water circle it once before disappearing forever.

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question. Draco grimaced at her matter of fact tone.

“No.” he said stubbornly. When he met Pansy’s unimpressed stare he ran his hand through his wet hair and tried again after a heavy pause. “Yes. Maybe? I don’t know. How can you love someone who hates you and everything your family stands for?”

“Do you stand for the same things your family stands for?” Pansy raised a delicate eyebrow, letting him know that his feeble attempt at wordplay did not escape her notice.

Draco swore softly under his breath and looked up at the ceiling, squinting to keep the water out of his eyes.

“I don’t know Pans. It’s all I’ve known for so long…”

“But…?” she prompted, her indigo eyes probing his for answers he didn’t want to give.

“But… the more time I have away from my father, the more I question everything. I don’t want to turn into him, Pans. I can’t! I want nothing to do with the Dark Arts or my father’s twisted moral values. I don’t want to hate people before I even know them. I don’t want to carry on the Malfoy name and uphold our wretched family traditions. I don’t want any of it! I just want to be Draco. Just bloody Draco. Not Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater. Not Draco the pureblood who can trace his family line back for centuries at a time. I just want to be normal!” He groused, talking every bit as much with his hands as he did with his mouth, sending cold water flying everywhere.

“And to shag Potter.” She interjected slyly.

“Yeah, that too.” Draco grunted, knowing he would regret his honesty in the morning.

“You aren’t your father, Draco,” she said softly, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “you are not doomed to repeat his mistakes.”

“I just feel so trapped, you know? They both expect me to be the perfect little pureblood son. To marry a perfect little pureblood witch and have perfect little pureblood children and to live a perfect little pureblood life.” He sneered at the thought, laughing mirthlessly. “Everyone just assumes that I’m going to continue on my father’s legacy of amassing power behind the scenes and having important people in my pocket. I just don’t want it. I haven’t even told my parents I’m gay. I’m too afraid of how my father will react.”

“Believe me, Dray. I do know. My parents expect that too. I know it sucks. But we don’t have to let them control us. We are the masters of our own destiny! We can do anything we want. As long as we do it together.” Pansy grabbed her wand and shut off the water but didn’t even try to get up. She cast drying charms on both of them and leaned over so she could rest her head on Draco’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, we do it together, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Draco almost smiled. Pansy could be a real bitch sometimes, but she was a damn good friend. Moments like this made all of the drama and all of the bullshit worth it.

“Together. Just two fucked up kids trying to save the world.”

“Sod the world. Let your precious Potter save it. We just need to save ourselves.”  
***

The Great Hall was a cacophony of sounds the next morning and Draco was absolutely miserable. It felt as if every last one of his brain cells was swimming through treacle tart and his ears seemed to have become absurdly sensitive overnight. He groaned when the hall filled with hissing and muttering, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He looked up to discover the source of the angry noises and grimaced when he saw Potter walking to the Gryffindor table, eyes set straight ahead and a determined frown playing at those distracting lips.

“Awe, poor baby. Are you hungover?” Pansy smirked, handing him a cup of tea. He took it gratefully, gulping down the hot liquid despite the pain blistering in his throat. He felt as if he could drink the entire black lake he was so parched.

“Shut it, Pansy.” He groused. The rest of the fourth years looked about as well off as he was. They were all staring in different directions, sipping tea, and eating copious amounts of greasy food without speaking. “How are you not?”

“I stopped drinking when we finished off the second bottle.” She looked so self-satisfied that Draco thought he might throw up.

“Oi, Parkinson! No talking until I can think without getting a bloody migraine!” Theo called, wincing at the loudness of his own voice.

Pansy rolled her eyes but, thankfully, remained silent. If it had been anyone but Theo she probably wouldn’t have acquiesced. If Blaise had asked she might have broken out into song just to spite him. Draco shot Theo an appreciative grin and helped himself to some bangers and mash. He kept a surreptitious eye on the Gryffindor table as he ate, frowning slightly when the Weasel arrived and sat as far away from Potter as possible. What was that all about?

Draco didn’t have time to ponder the implications of the Gryffindor seating arrangements, however, as Greg and Vince chose that particular moment to ask him endless inane questions. Gods they were so thick, but they were also loyal. Loyalty was a rare commodity in this day and age. So he bit back his sarcastic replies and lent them his undivided attention.

He didn’t see Harry again until Care of Magical Creatures. He took a deep breath when he caught sight of the idiotic Gryffindor already outside of Hagrid’s hut. It was one thing for Pansy to know. Draco couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else finding out he was in love with The Prat Who Lived. He hitched a condescending sneer onto his face as they drew closer, appreciating the fact that the wonder twins were flanking him on either side. Their solid presence behind him made him feel like he might actually be able to pull this off.

“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champion,” he said to Vince and Greg, earning a snort of laughter from each of them. “Got your autographs books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he’s going to be around much longer…half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”

Vince and Greg laughed heartily at that. Harry’s face flicked through about six different emotions before finally settling on apathy.

Something was very much not right. Why was Harry not rising to his bait? He normally jumped at the chance to square off against Draco. It was the one constant Draco could count on. If He couldn't be bothered to retaliate against his arch-nemesis there was something seriously wrong. Draco opened his mouth to goad him further but Hagrid chose that particular moment to emerge from behind his cabin with a teetering tower of crates in his arms.

“Alrigh’, e’ryone here?” Hagrid looked around after setting the crates down.

They rattled ominously. Of course they were still working with those bloody skrewts.

“Right then. Now, these little guys here seem to have some pent up energy, so today we’re goin’ ter try and walk ‘em.”

“Take these things for a walk?!” Draco cried in disgust, peering into the crate that was closest to him. That was a mistake. The skrewts were anything but little. They had grown even more since their last lesson and Draco felt panic beginning to bubble in his chest. “And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?”

“Roun’ the middle,” Hagrid said as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He picked up a skrewt and showed them how to slip the leash over what might have been its head. Draco backed away, revolted by the thought of touching them. “Er- yeh might want ter put yer dragon hide gloves on, jus’ as an extra precaution, like. Harry- you come here an’ help me with this big one.”

Draco watched Harry shuffle forward reluctantly and sighed. The fact that he hadn’t risen to Draco’s taunt, even a little, was worrying. This was going to be a long year.  
***

Harry kept his head down, eyes trained on the stone floor of the charms corridor as he rushed off to class. It seemed the entire school was back to hating him. It felt like second year all over again, except that he had at least had Ron on his side back then. Having everyone think he was the heir of Slytherin and attacking students had been a low point for his time at Hogwarts, but it was nothing compared to now. He chanced a glance at his surroundings and scowled when he caught sight of ‘Potter Stinks’ badges flashing at him from every direction.

“Just ignore them, Harry.” Hermione said softly.

“Easy for you to say.” He groused.

“You’re right, it is easy for me to say. I wish I could fix it and make them see the truth but I can’t, so ignoring them is our best option.” She huffed, glaring at the offending Hufflepuffs as they passed.

Harry said nothing as they entered the charms classroom at long last. Ron was already seated next to Neville. They seemed to be in deep conversation and Harry’s dark mood only worsened as he took his seat next to Hermione in silence. Ron shifted so that his back was to Harry and he had to suppress the urge to hex him.

“He’ll come around,” Hermione guessed his preoccupation easily. “Eventually.”

“I doubt it.” Harry scoffed as the bell rang.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Professor Flitwick called the class to attention before she could. She shot Harry a meaningful frown that clearly stated ‘this conversation isn’t over’ and he had to stifle a groan. Of course she couldn’t leave well enough alone.

When it came time for the practical portion of the lesson Hermione paired with him immediately. They were practicing summoning charms again and Harry considered the pros and cons of flinging himself out of the third story window not ten yards away. Flying without a broomstick would be a hell of a way to go.

“He’s not wearing a button, you know.” Hermione said blithely, jarring him back to reality.

“What?” Harry was caught off guard.

“Ron. He didn’t take a ‘Support Diggory’ button. I heard him telling off some Ravenclaws for wearing them during break.” She summoned the cushion they were supposed to be practicing with perfectly.

“Well bully for him.” Harry grumbled, trying, and failing, to summon the cushion to his side of the table. It gave a half-hearted flop and Harry’s irritation flared.

“You’re both being ridiculous.” She snapped, levitating the cushion farther away from her and summoning it again.

“He started it! A real friend would have believed I didn’t put my name into that damned goblet.”

“He’s jealous, Harry. He’s always overshadowed by his brothers at home, and now he’s being overshadowed at school by you. You have to realize that it isn’t personal, his ego is just hurt.”

“That isn’t my problem. I didn’t ask for any of this!” He growled, jabbing his wand so violently the cushion tore down the middle.

“I know that. Deep down he knows that too, just give him some time. He's just as much a victim of circumstance as you are.” She insisted, repairing the cushion he had ruined with a quick flick of her wand.

Harry grunted noncomentally. He had bigger things to worry about. Like the rapidly approaching first task. It was maddening that they wouldn’t tell them what it would be. When he failed to summon the cushion yet again he glanced around the room for inspiration.

Malfoy was staring at him.

When he caught his eye he cast a perfect summoning charm and smiled wickedly, flashing his badge so that it read ‘Potter Stinks’. Harry looked away, blushing.

Sodding Slytherin.

Another intrusive thought had him wondering what the quickest way to goad Malfoy into killing him would be. It would be a relief to finally be put out of his misery.  
Harry shook his head in an effort to focus. If he didn’t master the summoning charm this lesson Flitwick was sure to double his homework. If he was too much of a coward to kill himself then the least he could do was learn this bloody charm. How hard could it be?


	2. In Which Harry finds that fighting a dragon was actually quite fun and Draco daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first task is over and the Yule Ball is approaching quickly. For once in Harry's life, he starts feeling normal. Draco gets crazy ideas planted in his head and Snape worms his way out of dancing by the skin of his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Chapter Two is hot off the presses! It is just the beginning of a very long rollercoaster of angst, so strap in! I want to give a shout-out to my wonderful beta reader, AlexClio! This entire work would not be possible without her!   
> Disclaimers:  
> The dialogue between Ron and Harry is taken almost word for word from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by JK Rowling  
> I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.  
> It was just such a perfect makeup scene. I didn't want to mess with it too much!

The first task was over.

He had faced his dragon and he had won.

Harry sat dazedly in the medical tent as Madam Pomfrey tended to his wound. The Horntail’s spikes were venomous and apparently, Harry was allergic. He winced slightly when she started dabbing at the gash.

“I don’t know what they were thinking, bringing dragons to Hogwarts.” She tsked, vanishing the bloodied cloth and summoning a potion bottle to her. “A student could have died!”

Harry didn’t comment. He rather thought that was the point of this tournament. It was designed to test your daring as well as your survival skills. As much as he didn’t want to be a part of it at first he had to admit, evading the Hungarian Horntail had been exhilarating. He had never felt more alive than when he was flying every which way, dodging jets of fire and that deadly tail. Each close call had made his heart explode with fear and a perverse sense of excitement. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt that….normal. There had been no room for intrusive thoughts or to feel like his world was falling apart. His surroundings had melted away and it was just him and the dragon. The adrenaline was wearing off and Harry was mildly surprised to discover that the cloud of indifference that had been plaguing him since his name came out of the goblet had lifted somewhat. 

He almost felt happy. 

Harry cast his mind back, trying to discern the last time he had felt truly happy. His first thought was of the world cup, but even that event had been marred by the dark mark and Death Eaters. When the Weasleys had come to pick him up this past summer was also taken into consideration. Watching Dudley eat the ton tongue toffee had been a virtual riot, but that night had been plagued with copious amounts of anxiety. His thoughts strayed to Sirius and the night he had asked if Harry would want to come to live with him. Despite the danger of Professor Lupin turning into a werewolf and the fact that Pettigrew had escaped, Harry had felt elated at the prospect. That was before they both almost died down by the lake and Sirius was taken into custody to be kissed. Harry wracked his brains, trying to remember a single instance his happiness wasn’t short-lived. He supposed it must have been when he and Ron stole Mr. Weasley’s Ford Angela in second year. They might have hit the whomping willow, but they hadn’t been expelled and Ron even got a brand new wand out of it. His cheerful mood was dampened ever so slightly as he realized it had been over two years since he felt really truly happy. 

At long last Madam Pomfrey declared him patched up enough to go. He jumped off his cot and rushed out of the tent before she could call him back again. As soon as he left the tent he almost ran straight into two people. Harry froze when he caught sight of Ron, bracing for whatever scathing remark he might have.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione squealed. She had bright red scratches on her face from where she had been clutching it in fear. "You were fantastic! Really, you were!"

Harry gave her a weak smile before turning to look at Ron. He was standing ramrod straight with a frightened expression playing at his pale features. Hermione was watching them apprehensively, her eyes flicking from one face to the other like she was following a tennis match. 

"Harry," Ron began, his voice grave, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" Harry bit back. "Took you long enough."

Ron’s face flushed in embarrassment and Harry instantly regretted the snub.

“Harry, I-” He started. 

"It's okay," Harry cut Ron off before he could get the words out. He knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it. "Forget it." 

"No," Ron protested, "I shouldn't've -"

"Forget it," Harry couldn’t help the grin that was slowly spreading across his face. 

This tournament seemed a lot more bearable with Ron on his side. Ron grinned back nervously, shifting his weight at the uncomfortable display of emotions. Hermione made a strangled noise and Harry was surprised to see that she was crying.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered.

"You two are so stupid!" she stamped her foot on the ground, tears spilling unashamedly down her cheeks. Before either of them could stop her she had enveloped them both in a hug and dashed away, wiping at her face angrily.

"Barking mad, that one" Ron shook his head at her retreating figure. "C'mon, they'll be putting up your scores...."

Harry let Ron lead him back towards the enclosure, allowing himself to bask in this strange feeling. Relief, exhaustion and a strange happiness all intermingled and Harry embraced it. He was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. 

It wouldn’t last. It never did.  
***

Panic trickled slowly into his awareness, making him feel numb. Harry couldn’t dance. The Dursleys would never pay for lessons and of course Aunt Petunia had never bothered to teach him. Dancing was not the kind of activity they approved of. Now Professor McGonagall was telling him he had to open the Yule Ball and dance in front of the whole school? 

Not just Hogwarts either, the students from the visiting schools and the ministry employees as well. He felt nauseous just thinking about it. Ron shot him a sympathetic look before McGonagall called his name.

“Mr. Weasley, up here.” She said sternly. A horrified expression crossed Ron’s face as the twins shoved him forward, laughing hysterically. “Take my waist, if you please.”

“Take your what?” Ron was flabbergasted and Harry laughed despite himself.

“My waist, Mr. Weasly.” McGonagall sighed exasperatedly, forcibly placing Ron’s hand on her hip. “Good. Now,” she pointed her wand at the gramophone in the corner of the room and it started playing a light waltz. “The steps are relatively simple. It is the same four steps again and again.”

Harry couldn’t hide his smirk at how uncomfortable Ron looked. He was being pushed around the middle of the floor like a dust mop by McGonagall. George and Fred were shaking with silent laughter, leaning into one another for support. 

“Oi, you’re never going to let him forget this, are you?” He grinned at the twins. George gave him a wink before they both replied.

“Never.”  
***

“It is my most...ill-fated duty to inform you that we shall be hosting the Yule Ball this Christmas.” Snape’s mouth was twisted in disapproval as he regarded the entirety of Slytherin house. Excited chatter erupted and Snape glowered at them until they fell silent. “The Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance. It is open only to Fourth Years and above unless an older student asks you. There will be no sneaking into the ball if you are underage. I expect each and every one of you to behave yourselves in a way that behooves the House of Salazar Slytherin. If any of you are caught performing… undesirable actions, I will not hesitate to take points from my own house. Am I understood?” 

Draco smirked at his friends as the rest of the house broke out into whispers. He finally had a chance to show off the result of years of dance lessons he had been forced to endure before coming to Hogwarts. He shot a cocky wink at Pansy, sending her an air kiss. She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. Unfortunately, Snape chose that moment to look in their direction. 

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson.” He snapped and Draco gulped. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to demonstrate for the rest of the class?”

Snape set music playing with a lazy flick of his wand and Draco sighed, holding his hand out to Pansy as he stood. She took it and gave him an encouraging wink. He led her to the floor and let instinct take over. He moved flawlessly, leading her around the common room in elegant spins and twirls. For the big finish, he dipped her in a sweeping motion and smiled at her elated expression. Pansy had always liked being his dance partner when her family visited the manor. He was slightly shocked when most of the house broke into applause and he flushed in equal amounts of embarrassment and pleasure. 

“Will that be all, sir?” Draco shot Snape a cheeky smile and was rewarded with a fond glare. 

“If any of you have any questions about dancing, I suggest you direct your inquiries to Mr. Malfoy here. He seems to be an expert. You are all dismissed.” He intoned before sweeping from the room, his black robes billowing behind him in a dramatic flare. 

The Slytherins immediately broke into smaller groups, the older students making a beeline for the couches and armchairs by the roaring fire as the room filled with excited buzzing. 

“So, who do you plan on taking to the ball?” Pansy asked in a sing-song voice, letting the other fourth years pull ahead of them.

“You, of course.” Draco snorted. “Who else?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to dance with a certain champion.” She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. 

“Right. ‘Hey Potter, I know we hate each other but do you want to go to the ball with me?’ Yeah, that would go over well.” He rolled his eyes, trying not to think about what it would be like to actually go to the ball with Harry. 

Now that Pansy put the damned idea in his head he couldn’t help but envision spinning Harry across the dance floor, his head on Draco’s chest as they held each other tightly. He couldn’t stop himself from dreaming about stealing kisses under the mistletoe after they danced until they were sore. Or taking a moonlight stroll on the grounds to cool down, holding hands, and just being content to be with each other. Draco wanted it. He wanted it so much his heart felt like it would break.

“Shite, Draco I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” Pansy winced guiltily when she saw his expression and he sighed. 

“It’s fine.” He cut her off, not wanting to make a fuss about it. “I’ll be alright. If I can’t have the prettiest boy in school, at least I’ll have the prettiest girl.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed, but she still kept a concerned eye on him “You haven’t even properly asked me. I might just go with Nott or Zabini.”

“Spare me the horror of watching you dance with Blaise.” Draco groaned playfully. “Pansy Antoinette Parkinson, would you please do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?” He bowed at the waist, mirth swimming behind his silver eyes. 

“Well… since you asked so nicely, and nearly half the school thinks we’re dating anyway, I suppose I might as well.” she smirked.  
***

Harry took a couple of deep calming breaths as the music started. Parvati gave him a stern look before placing his hand on her waist. He realized belatedly that she had been saying something to him. As the music swelled all four champions and their partners moved in time to delicate notes. Harry hoped it wasn’t obvious that he was counting the steps in his head. After what seemed like an eternity other couples began to join them on the floor. A flash of blond caught his eye and Harry looked over to see what it was. Draco Malfoy was all dressed up in bottle green dress robes that made his grey eyes look bright and dazzling. Harry couldn’t help but watch as he led Pansy Parkinson onto the floor and spun her around with a grace Harry would have never accomplished. 

The song seemed to last five lifetimes as he watched the other dancers having fun. He and Parvati nearly ran into Malfoy as he dipped Parkinson in the middle of the floor. Parvati was not pleased and took over leading. Harry had no complaints. It was much easier to follow her movements than to try to count them out on his own. At long last, the final notes faded. Harry dropped Parvati’s hand and rushed off the dancefloor, looking for Ron and Padama. 

He found them seated at a table on the side of the dancefloor, both looking absolutely miserable. Ron was oddly still upset by Hermione going to the ball with Krum and Harry simply did not get it. Krum was clever, talented, an international Quidditch star, not to mention fit. Why would Hermione turn him down? He watched the pair dancing and laughing together. They looked happy. Harry was simply happy for his friend while Ron grumbled about the age difference and language barrier. Harry didn’t even bat an eye when a boy from Beauxbatons asked Parvati to dance and she said yes without hesitation. Padama deserted them shortly after that. Harry and Ron were commiserating about their mutual displeasure regarding the ball when Parkinson approached their table. Ron froze, staring at the Slytherin in her deep magenta robes. She had her dark hair piled on top of her head but whisps were falling down in curled tendrils that framed her face. She was a bit pink in the cheeks as she collapsed into the seat beside Harry. He couldn’t decide if the pug-nosed girl was pretty or not. He supposed she was. At least for tonight, anyway.

“I can’t believe the Champion Who Lived isn’t dancing and enjoying the ball.” She huffed, fanning her face with her hands.

“What do you want, Parkinson?” Ron snipped a little more harshly than was strictly necessary. 

“Oi, don’t take that tone with me, Weasley. Isn’t tonight all about Magical Cooperation? It’s a Ball. Let house rivalries go for just one night, yeah?” She eyed Ron speculatively. 

Harry looked anywhere but at the pair of them. He didn’t want to get dragged into the middle. His eyes landed on Malfoy dancing with another boy in their year. He wasn’t sure but Harry thought his name was Nott. Wasn’t that strange? Boys dancing with boys? None of the dancers around them seemed to think so. It looked oddly poetic. 

The way Malfoy moved was almost fluid. It was strangely attractive.

That train of thought caught Harry off guard. Should he be finding other boys attractive? He knew the Dursleys thought being gay was just as disgusting and abnormal as being a wizard. He had always just accepted that view as a fact. It had never been challenged. His primary school teachers had discouraged him from sending valentines to the other boys during their school parties. All of the movies and shows he had snuck into or been allowed to join in watching always depicted straight couples. This had aligned so well with how everyone else around him viewed relationships that he didn’t question it. Now that he thought about it he had never seen homosexuality painted in a positive light.

Could the Dursleys be as wrong about sexual orientation as they were about the wizarding world? 

Malfoy and Nott didn’t look disgusting together. No one else seemed to regard them any differently than the other couples dancing around them. Properly paying attention now, he noticed numerous same-sex dance partners flouncing around the floor. No one seemed to think it was weird or indecent. 

“...and I was hoping that boy wonder over here would deign to dance with me.” Parkinson’s voice came into sharper focus as she touched Harry lightly on the arm.

“Er,” He fumbled, trying to catch up to the conversation.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She smirked, grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him onto the dancefloor. 

“Parkinson-”

“Pansy. Call me Pansy. At least for tonight… Harry.” She cut him off, making an odd face when she said his name.

“Pansy then.” He nodded. “I really, honestly don’t know how to dance.”

“That much was obvious by the opening dance.” She laughed.

Harry was braced for ridicule but the laugh seemed genuine, not cruel or snarky. When she didn’t continue he tried again.

“Right. So. I can’t dance. Why would you want to dance with me?” His thoughts flickered to Malfoy and the ease with which he had spun Parkinson… Pansy around the floor.

“Because you looked lonely, Pott- er, Harry. And I wanted bragging rights for having danced with the boy who lived.” She shrugged, glossing over her little slip-up. “Don’t worry, it’s all in the leading. Salazar knows I’ve danced with Draco enough times. I can take care of us, don’t you worry your scarred little head.” 

“Thanks.” He frowned, reaching up to flatten his bangs over his scar out of habit.

“It really bothers you, doesn't it?” Her pink lips settled into a pout as she eyed his forehead.

“What, my scar? Yeah, it does.” He tilted his head to the side.

“Sorry for poking fun at it. No more scar head jokes, I promise.” She smiled, wrapping both arms around his neck as a slow song started to play.

“No offense, Pansy, but… why do you care?” Harry hesitated before placing one hand on each of her hips, letting her sway them to the beat of the music.

“Believe it or not, Harry, not all Slytherins are out to get you. In fact, no one in our year truly hates you. It’s just this bloody house rivalry and how our parents expect us to behave. It’s all such shite!” She rolled her eyes at him. 

Before he could think of a response Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned it was the boy he thought was called Nott with Malfoy hovering behind him looking either terrified or livid. Possibly both. 

“Sorry, Potter, but may I cut in?” Nott grinned sheepishly at Harry. He exchanged a quick wink with Pansy and Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Er, sure?” Harry let go of Pansy’s waist gratefully, stepping back to allow Nott to take over.

“How sweet of you, Theo.” Pansy gushed as they spun away, leaving Harry and Malfoy standing awkwardly together. 

“Well, Potter, seeing as how my dance partner absconded with yours, care to dance? It’s tradition.” Malfoy muttered, going red in the ears. 

Flashes of Malfoy dancing with both Parkinson and Nott ran through his mind and Harry repressed a shiver. 

“Oh, I don’t know how to dance. Pansy was leading.” He muttered embarrassedly. 

“Don’t worry, Potter. Who do you think taught Pansy?” Malfoy smirked, extending a hand towards him. Harry took it hesitantly and let Malfoy pull him into a dancing position. “Just follow my lead, you will be fine.”  
***

Heat seared his fingertips and palm as he took Harry’s hand. Draco did his best not to flush. Those bloody interfering traitors. He didn’t suspect anything when Theo had asked him to dance. That was somewhat normal. When he had spotted Pansy dragging Harry onto the dancefloor, however, he knew something was up. 

Despite his annoyance, he had to admit it was a good plan. Traditionally if someone cut in on a dance, the abandoned partners would join together for the remainder of that dance. Who could blame a pureblood for sticking with tradition? 

He pulled Harry closer to him and smiled when he automatically put his hand on Draco's waist. Harry was surprisingly easy to lead. He knew what he was supposed to do, he was just too timid to do it. With enough practice, Draco was sure he would turn out to be a fantastic dancer. 

"So, you and Patil?" Draco arched an eyebrow as they began to dance. 

"Er, we aren't… together, or anything. She was just the first person I asked to say yes." Harry's cheeks brightened with a delightful blush and Draco's heart skipped a beat. 

"I see." He said thoughtfully, twirling them around the dancefloor effortlessly. "It's sort of the same with Pansy. She's my best mate, but if someone else had asked her before I did I have no doubt she would have said yes." 

"I thought you two…" Harry left off awkwardly, letting Draco spin him before pulling him back into his arms.

"No. Although if I liked girls, it might be her. I'm rather fond of brunettes. " Draco felt his face go scarlet. He did not just say that. To Harry bloody freaking Potter. The older students must have spiked the punch. That was the only explanation. 

"Oh." Harry said simply.

It was so incredibly frustrating to not be able to read his mind. After a few moments of silence between them, Draco tried again.

"Thank you. For honoring tradition, I mean. I'm oddly glad we had this chance to chat without firing off hexes at each other." He smiled shyly. 

That got a reaction. Harry burst out laughing and rested his head on Draco's chest for a fraction of a second. It was enough. Draco's heart felt like it was exploding. 

"Well, as Pansy put it: tonight is about cooperation. It seems silly to let a house rivalry ruin a perfectly good evening. " Harry snorted.

"Right you are, Potter. Right you are."


	3. In which Draco’s love of foreign languages comes in handy, Theo gives Potter too much credit and Harry starts to think he can win.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the second task and tensions are running high. Theo discovers a secret and Pansy reveals that she knows a lot more than she lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Chapter three is a bit of calm before the storm, so take a deep breath and dive in! I want to give a massive shout-out to AlexClio and SandZhark for being fantastic beta readers. They push me to keep writing and to keep getting better. This fic would not be the same without them!  
> Happy reading!

Icy cold panic consumed Harry. 

The second task was only minutes away and he still had no bloody idea how he was going to breathe underwater for an hour. Maybe he should just let himself drown. Save him the humiliation of admitting he never figured it out. No one can be disappointed in you if you’re dead. It was lucky that McGonagall had needed to see Ron and Hermione. Hermione’s quick eyes would have caught that thought as it flashed across his face and then he would really be in trouble. He let his head fall to the desk with a loud thud, hating how numb his brain felt. 

“Harry Potter, sir?” came a familiar high pitched cry. 

Harry’s head snapped up and his eyes landed on Dobby. The elf was clutching something that looked a bit like if earthworms fused with bean sprouts. Harry tried not to make a face. It might have been the elf’s favorite food for all he knew.

“Hello, Dobby. How are you?” He tried to smile, but Harry had a feeling he didn’t quite manage it. 

“Dobby is fine sir, but Harry Potter is not! They is taking his Wheezy, sir! Dobby is not wanting Harry Potter to be without his Wheezy!” The elf seemed distraught, holding out the slimy sprout-worms towards Harry.

“Erm, I’m sorry, they’ve taken my what?”

“Your Wheezy, sir! They is putting your Wheezy at the bottom of the lake so Dobby has come to give you gilly weed, sir! So you can be of the saving of your Wheezy!”

“Hold on Dobby, are you saying this….gilly weed will help me breathe underwater for an hour?” Harry dared not to believe it.

“Yes! It will help you save your Wheezy!” Dobby’s ears wiggled in delight as Harry grabbed the gilly weed from him.  
“Thanks, Dobby! I don’t know how to repay you!” He grinned, already taking off for the lake. He was running late, but with Dobby’s gilly weed already in his cheek, he was confident his luck might be turning around. He might even win this thing. 

The way he saw it, he would either win or die trying. The thought occurred to him that he was playing right into the hands of whoever had put his name in the Goblet. Whoever had entered him had obviously wanted him dead. But he had survived the dragon. He had the gilly weed. Harry was determined to finish the third task and win the Tournament. But he was getting ahead of himself. He still needed to survive this task before worrying about the third. Everyone threw him an irritated look and multiple people were asking where he had been as he joined the other three champions lined up on the shore of the lake. All sound faded into the background as he tried to hype himself up for this task. Cedric gave him a curious look but Harry just shook his head, focusing on chewing the rubbery plant. It tasted like seaweed and slugs. It was all he could do to keep it in his mouth. 

At long last, the blast of the gun sounded and all of the champions moved forward, leaving Harry standing alone on the beach still trying to chew the gilly weed. There was nothing for it. He would have to swallow it whole. He gulped the plant down and then gasped as pain seared in his neck. He gingerly felt behind his ears and was pleasantly surprised to find he had grown gills. He sent Dobby a quick prayer of thanks before diving into the icy water, confident and enlivened.  
*** 

Pansy placed a reassuring hand on Draco’s knee. He forced his leg to stop bouncing with a great deal of effort.

“The bloody idiot used gilly weed! There is never a guarantee of how long it will last! What was he thinking?” He hissed to her out of the side of his mouth. 

“It’s Potter.” She rolled her eyes. “He probably wasn’t.”

Draco scowled moodily at the lake. Everything looked calm on the surface, yet within its depths the champions, and more importantly Harry, were facing dangers he could only even guess at. 

“Dumbledore wouldn’t let anything happen to his little golden boy. Don’t worry, he will be fine.” Theo moved closer, huddling with them for warmth. This was normal. The assurance that Harry would be fine was not. Theo caught sight of Draco’s expression, which he guessed was a mixture of shock, fear and feigned revulsion, and shook his head. “Calm down, no one else knows.” 

“And how is it that you know?” Draco snapped, suddenly defensive.

“Oh please, don’t insult my intelligence. At first, I thought Pansy just wanted a laugh, getting you to dance with Potter. Then I saw the way you looked at him when you thought no one else was watching. The way your eyes followed him the rest of the night, even if only for an instant. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” Theo conjured a blanket and pulled it around their shoulders. The three of them hadn’t cuddled up beneath a blanket since second year. Draco had to admit he had missed this. 

“You’re not going to tell anybody.” Draco winced. His voice sounded weak and pleading. Malfoys didn’t beg. 

“Course not.” Theo snorted. “And I’m going to do you another favor and pretend you didn’t just insult me twice in a row.” 

“Right.” Draco acknowledged. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theo waved his hand dismissively, almost whacking Pansy across the face due to their close proximity. “So, how long has this been going on?”

Draco felt blood rush to his face. It was one thing for Theo to know. It was quite another to talk so openly about it.

“Does it matter?” He focused his gaze on the lake, purposefully avoiding both Theo and Pansy’s eyes.

“Summer before first year.” Pansy jumped in. Draco’s eyes flashed to her face in a mixture of horror and shock. “Oh come off it, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. You wouldn’t shut up about the prat. He met him in Madam Malkin’s. They were both getting fitted for school robes and he didn’t even know he was Harry Potter. From the way he tells it, he was trying to show off and was mortified that it didn’t seem to be working on the scrawny kid next to him. When he saw him on the train and realized he was Harry Potter of course he tried to befriend him.”

“Which backfired miserably.” Theo interjected, smirking jovially. 

“Quite right.” Pansy nodded. “And thus began the obsession we’ve both been subjected to for the past four years. I think he realized he was in love with him last year, although he tried to deny it, even to himself. I finally got him to admit it out loud just a few months ago.” 

“Oi, sod off Parkinson.” Draco buried his face in his hands. He must be cherry red by now. Pansy noticed everything. Of course she did. 

“Am I wrong?” She sang, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. Draco resolutely kept his face hidden in his gloves and didn’t respond. “I thought not.”

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed till now.” Theo sounded shocked. Draco slowly emerged from his hands and was relieved to see that the attention was no longer focused on him. 

“Well, I didn’t exactly broadcast it.” Draco groused. “I did try to make it seem like I hated him.”

“Yeah, but I’m normally much more observant than that. How did you suss it out, Pans?” Theo stretched and settled his arm around Draco’s other shoulder. The biting cold seemed to lessen as he huddled into his friend’s body heat.

“Oh, it was the little things. You really had to watch for them to catch them, so don’t feel too bad. The secret longing behind every glare, the insistence about going to every single Gryffindor Quidditch match, drawings of Potter in his secret sketchbook hidden under his mattress. Things like that.” She laughed as Draco stiffened in alarm.

“You know about my sketchbook?” His voice jumped about six octaves. Art was not something a good pureblood wasted time on. His father had drilled that into him from a very young age. His mother, however, had kept slipping him contraband art supplies while his father was otherwise occupied. She had always been supportive of anything that made Draco happy. 

“Please, who doesn’t?” Theo teased. “Well, maybe Greg and Vince don’t.”

“And Blaise is too self-obsessed to notice.” Pansy chimed in.

“And the other girls just aren’t in our dorm enough.” Theo tilted his head thoughtfully.

“So maybe just us, then.” Pansy smiled. “We must just know you too well.” 

Draco’s shoulders slumped in relief. If it ever got back to his father that he was still drawing in his spare time….

“I guess you do.” he managed a weak laugh. 

Pansy opened her mouth to say something but movement from the lake cut her off. Fleur Delacour had broken the surface, ending her bubblehead charm as she swam to shore. Draco couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of a missing object. 

“I wonder why she’s back empty-handed.” Theo frowned.

Madam Maxime rushed to greet her champion, wrapping a large blanket around her shoulders. Snippets of rapid-fire French floated back to where Draco and his friends were sitting and he strained to catch the conversation. 

“Apparently she got attacked by Grindylows and lost her sense of direction. Something about dragging her under…. She’s quite ashamed of having been bested by a water demon… and she’s sorry to have brought dishonor to their school.” Draco translated what he could for his friends. 

“Of course you speak French.” Pansy nudged him playfully. “Is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Not be in love with bloody Harry Potter?” He smirked bitterly. Pansy clicked her tongue disapprovingly and Theo tried to stifle his own laughter. 

"I think it suits you. I mean, who else could you possibly be in love with that would be as tragic as being in love with Potter?" She tousled his hair, making him jerk away to fix it.

“She’s got a point, you know.” Theo grinned.

“Sod off, Nott.” Draco muttered. 

The water was starting to bubble towards the middle of the lake. Another champion was coming up and Draco desperately hoped it was Harry. After a few moments of tense silence as the entire crowd collectively held their breath, Cedric Diggory broke free of the lake’s surface and was towing a confused looking Cho Chang to shore.

“The treasures they took are people?!” Pansy cried in outrage. Bagman had recited the riddle that the champions had been given in their eggs at the beginning of the task. “That’s barbaric!”

“I’m starting to understand why this Tournament was discontinued two hundred years ago. I can't believe they brought it back...” Theo frowned.

Draco made a strangled noise as the next champion to emerge was Krum with Granger in tow. It was well past their allotted hour. Where was Harry? The gilly weed had surely worn off by now.

“He will be ok, Draco.” Pansy leaned her head on his which was the only form of comfort she could offer while they were all huddled up together for warmth.

“It’s been over an hour. There is no guarantee of how long the effects of gilly weed will last. He could have drowned and we wouldn’t even know.” Draco absolutely did not whimper.

“While Potter may be an idiot, he isn’t stupid. He will have a plan. He wouldn’t just jump in the lake without a backup plan. Breathe, Draco.” Theo murmured in his ear, scooting impossibly closer. 

Pansy started stroking his hair with her free hand and Theo put a reassuring hand on his knee. Draco took comfort in the support from his friends. He hoped that the other Slytherins didn’t see anything odd about their closeness. It was bloody freezing out and they weren’t the only friend group cuddled together. He found a small amount of solace in that. Finally, the water in the middle of the lake started churning. It had to be Harry. The Weasel popped up first, followed by a small blonde girl and Draco stopped breathing. There was no shock of black hair amongst them. After a few excruciating seconds, Harry emerged at last.

“Bloody idiot saved Delacour’s treasure too.” He groaned. Half giddy with relief and half furious at the fool of a Gryffindor. 

“Came in last because of it too.” Pansy hummed in agreement, still stroking his hair for which he was secretly grateful. 

Everyone winced when the merpeople came up to talk to Dumbledore. Draco regretted choosing seats so close to the judges' table. After everything had been said and done, and Harry came in second place for his idiotic moral fiber, the tight band that had been constricting Draco’s chest began to dissolve. Harry had survived the first two tasks. Only one more task to go.  
***

“You don’t think it’s true, do you?” Draco hissed, shoving Pansy’s Witch Weekly magazine away.

“It’s Rita Skeeter, so probably not. She makes up half of her articles. You know that.” Theo grimaced.

“If Granger and Potter were dating he would have taken her to the Yule Ball.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Not if she had already moved on to Krum. She did go to the ball with him.” Draco scowled, doing his best not to imagine Harry running his fingers through her bushy hair as they snogged in a nondescript room.

“Why don’t I find out for you, hmm?” Pansy shot him an exasperated look. 

“How would you do that?”

“I have my ways.” She winked slyly before grabbing her magazine and slipping away.

“I haven’t seen Potter show any preference either way. He might be gay for all we know. Skeeter is a lying cow.” Theo said in a low voice, bending over his fish and chips so he could talk discreetly.

“That would be the day.” Draco snorted. 

If Harry was gay that meant Draco had a chance. It was dangerous to let himself hope. It would be impossible for them to ever get together, even if he was. They had spent the past four years in a bitter rivalry. The notion of Harry being gay and falling for Draco was almost laughable. 

Draco’s eyes flicked over to the Gryffindor table where Harry was flanked by The Weasel and Granger, deep in conversation. He looked worried and Draco wondered if he had seen the article yet. Harry’s green eyes suddenly met his and Draco panicked. He flicked him off before quickly turning to Theo, pretending to be in the middle of a conversation.

“Real smooth.” Theo snorted.

“Does he look angry?” Draco grimaced.

“I’d say he looks more confused than anything. He’s still staring at you though.” Theo chewed thoughtfully. 

“Bloody perfect.” He grumbled, stabbing a chip with his fork and biting it off moodily. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was angry, but it was a better emotion than hope. At least when it came to Harry. If he let himself hope he would only get hurt. To Draco’s relief, Blaise chose that moment to demand his attention. He would much rather plot pranks than think about Harry and his complicated love life.

He didn’t see Harry again until double potions at the end of the day. Pansy shot him a knowing smile when they heard the Gryffindors descending the stairs, pulling out her damned magazine with a flourish.

“Did you guys see the article about Potter?” She asked their fellow fourth years with relish.

“Ugh, I did.” Tracy scoffed. “Isn’t it so very Gryffindor of Granger to bounce from one famous person to the next? Nice quote, by the way. She really is ugly, isn’t she?”

“Thank you. I thought the Witch Weekly readers would eat it up.” Pansy smirked. "I think it was quite clever of me."

“That’s because you made it up.” Daphne flipped her hair over her shoulder impatiently. “Granger is too cowardly to use a love potion.”

“Of course I made it up, my mother was pushing me to give Skeeter a juicy spin so she could sell more copies. I delivered. She already was on about Granger dating Potter and Krum. I just… helped her along.” Pansy sniffed. 

“Well, I've never seen Potter and Granger do anything to suggest a real relationship between them. I bet it’s a load of codswallop. Even Potter has got to have better taste than Granger.” Theo snorted, shooting Draco a conspiratorial wink.

His comment earned a round of laughter just as the subject of their amusement joined the throng waiting outside the potions classroom.

“There they are!” Pansy giggled as the group parted to give her a clear line of sight. “You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!”

Granger caught the magazine Pansy had thrown at her face, looking dazed. Harry and the Weasel looked at it curiously as the door to the potions classroom swung open. Snape motioned for them to file inside and they all obeyed silently. Draco, Theo, and Pansy took their usual table in the back while Harry and his groupies claimed the table next to theirs. As soon as Snape’s back was turned they opened the magazine beneath their table and started rifling through it. When they found the article they huddled together to read. Harry’s face went from curious to confused, but there was no embarrassment or outrage at the invasion of his privacy. Even Granger didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she was laughing.

“Looks like Theo was right.” Pansy hummed as they started grabbing ingredients and setting up their cauldrons to start the Wit-Sharpening potion they were supposed to be working on. 

“I’m always right.” Theo rolled his eyes, grabbing the mortar and pestle so he could grind up some scarab beetles. 

Granger glanced over at their table, shooting them a sarcastic smile and a little wave as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Draco was appalled by the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded through him. He gave Snape a small smile as he approached their tables. His godfather responded with a curt nod before rounding on the Gryffindors who were stupidly still talking.

“Fascinating as I’m sure your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger, this is hardly the time or place to be discussing it. Ten points from Gryffindor for your poor judgment.” Snape sneered.

The whole class turned to stare at them but Harry only glared at Draco. He seized the opportunity to flash his ‘Potter Stinks’ button at him and he rolled his eyes and looked away.

“What do we have here?” Snape continued, grabbing the witch weekly Granger had left open on the seat next to her. “Reading magazines under the table as well? I’ll take another ten points for your inattention.” He gazed down at the article and Draco could see the vindictive mirth in his eyes. “Oh, but of course, Mr. Potter has to keep up on his...press coverage.” 

The Slytherins all chuckled at that and Snape smiled maliciously as, to Draco’s horror, he began to read the article out loud. Harry and Granger both were turning dangerous shades of red as Snape paused at the end of every sentence for dramatic effect. The article sounded worse somehow when read out loud. When he was finished he split the golden trio up, forcing Harry to sit upfront with him. 

Draco watched surreptitiously as his godfather taunted Harry quietly, his black eyes flashing. He wondered what Harry had done to him to earn such unadulterated hatred. Snape was not the most pleasant person to begin with, but he seemed to especially hate Harry and Longbottom. He tormented them the most frequently. Whatever the case, Draco was glad to be on his good side. He was terrifying on a good day. He didn't even want to imagine what being on his bad side was like. He almost felt sorry for the Gryffindors. 

Almost.


	4. In which Voldemort ruins a perfectly good tournament and Draco’s life becomes a lot more complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start speeding up after the third task. Both Harry and Draco face different challenges in the coming years. Will they accomplish their separate goals? More importantly, will they survive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! This chapter is where this fic kind of picks up the pace. We've got the third task to go and then everything changes. If anyone wants more information about things that happen, feel free to leave them in the comments. I have a separate series of one-shots and outtakes for this verse and I have no issues writing more to satisfy your curiosity!! As always a huge shout-out to my darling beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark! They bully me into writing, even when I don't feel like it.  
> Happy Reading!

A strange chill clung to the air as darkness descended on the Quidditch pitch. The band was still playing merrily, even though the last Champion had long since been swallowed into the depths of the maze. Excited chatter rippled through the crowd as the hedges swayed in the wind.

“At least it’s just a maze.” Pansy tried to reassure him.

Draco just shook his head. A persistent feeling of dread had been hanging over him ever since he had figured it out. Karkaroff stalking Snape everywhere he went, both former death eaters holding their left forearms as if they pained them… his father’s barely concealed fear at the World Cup. None of it boded well. Delacour and Krum had both been disqualified and now it was just Diggory and Harry in there. It felt like a trap. Nothing had happened in far too long. The maze seemed to still before a bright flash of blue light flared in the center of the maze. 

Silence fell across the mass gathered in the stands. It was clear from the expressions on the judges' faces, ranging from shocked to terrified, that this was not supposed to happen. The quiet felt violent. Draco couldn’t breathe properly. That flash meant something bad. He knew it. He just knew it. Noise slowly crept back into the stands as people started talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out what had happened. 

“You don’t think…” Theo swore. 

Draco locked eyes with him and he saw all of the fear and uncertainty that he felt. 

“Something is happening.” Draco’s voice was clipped. 

He couldn’t shake this overwhelming anxiety. The first sign of movement caught Draco’s eye. Both Karkarof and Snape had flinched involuntarily. Karkaroff got up without a word and left the arena at a very brisk pace. Snape looked like he was about to be sick. 

“That can't be good.” Pansy frowned. 

“I don’t like this.” Greg chimed in.

Great. If even simpletons like Crabbe and Goyle could tell something was up maybe he wasn’t just being paranoid. Draco locked eyes with each and every one of them, all of their fathers former death eaters, and a hard resolve hardened in his stomach. 

“No matter what happens, we’re in this together.” He vowed. 

Four somber faces nodded back at him. He pulled Pansy and Theo in close and tried to draw strength from them. There was a second, blinding flash of blue light and suddenly Harry was holding Cedric to him at the entrance to the maze. Draco stood up. Something was seriously wrong. Harry was clinging to Cedric like he was…

A scream pierced the night, triggering a wave of mass hysteria. Ripples of shock and horror moved through the crowd as shouts and whispers brought forth the same phrase: he’s dead. 

He’s dead.

He’s dead. 

Draco can’t breathe. He can’t be dead. It must have been Cedric. It had to be. None of that mattered because Draco didn’t know for sure. There was a possibility, no matter how small, that Harry was dead. And his entire being rejected the notion. An elbow to the ribs pulled him back to himself and Pansy jerked her head to where Moody could be seen dragging Harry back towards the castle. 

He’s not dead. 

Cedric was.  
***

The Great Hall was draped in black, house cup forgotten in light of this tragedy. Harry had been in the hospital wing the past couple of days and Draco tried to convince himself that was a good thing. At least he’s getting looked after. He just couldn’t visit, of course. Wouldn't that be priceless, a Malfoy going to visit Saint Potter in the hospital wing? Nothing like a good scandal to distract the school from the cloud of darkness and uncertainty at their doorstep. Draco glanced over at the Gryffindor table more out of habit than anything else and was rewarded with his first sight of Harry since the third task. He looked horrible. His eyes had dark circles under them and he wouldn’t meet anyone's gaze for longer than a few seconds. Draco recognized that look. It was the same look he wore after spending… quality time with his father. He didn’t know how to help. He was in for a rough summer as it was, now that The Dark Lord was back. Draco tried not to let the fear control him. He was all but guaranteed to be meeting The Dark Lord this summer. The mere thought of it left him cold. What was he going to do? 

Draco hardly noticed as Dumbledore spoke. He gave a shite eulogy about a student he rarely interacted with and then told them all The Dark Lord was back. As if that weren’t obvious. Could there really be people who hadn’t figured it out? He glared around the hall. How many people would shout ‘death eater’ at him when they came back? At all 5 of them? Then the most terrifying thought of all… How long until those accusations become true?  
***

Harry shot one last wave to his friends before trudging off towards the Dursleys. It would be nice to not have to pretend to be alive. The Dursleys wouldn't notice. Even if they did, they wouldn’t care. He was free to wallow. To watch Cedric die every time he closed his eyes without needing a silencing charm. It would be a relief to just stay in his room, make no noise, and pretend he doesn’t exist. So in between scavenger hunts for news and the occasional walk to blow off steam, that is exactly what he did. As time wore on he became less apathetic and more angry. Why didn’t anyone trust him? Why wouldn’t they tell him anything? Why was he, the one who watched Voldemort return, forced to find clever ways to listen to the Muggle news because no one would tell him what was going on?! Anger was an emotion. Emotions were healthy, right? Being angry was better than being numb, so he ran with it.  
***

He had been confined to his room for the majority of the summer so far. Nothing to complain about when your family is entertaining The Dark Lord himself downstairs. Draco wore a path across his polished wood floor. He had The Dark Lord. In his home. What was he going to do? How could he break free now? At least Theo, Pansy, Greg, and Vince came over regularly….when their fathers had to attend… meetings. They mostly took tea in Draco’s room and gossiped about anything other than what was happening this summer. Perhaps if they pretended like their 17th birthdays were forever away, The Dark Lord would forget about them. Draco was not ready to accept what would happen to him if he didn’t.  
***

Harry slipped into the freshly cleaned drawing-room and shut the door quietly. He needed to get away from the others. There was just too much energy in the house. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley kept trying to talk to him about his hearing and didn't have anything else to say about it. He backed into the room slowly, as if expecting someone to throw the door open and pull him back into the chaos. 

“You hiding out then as well?” A familiar voice startled Harry. He jumped about half a foot before spinning around and catching sight of Sirius with a glass of wine in his hands, lounging in the chair that the sack of rats had been in earlier. 

“Sirius!” He grinned, then his cheeks reddened, realizing he had been caught. "I was, er, just trying to… hide out, pretty much, yeah.”

“Perfect, grab a goblet and I’ll pour you a splash of wine.” Sirius nodded to the cabinet behind his head. Recognizing a good deal when he saw one, Harry did just that. 

"I just needed…." Harry began, feeling awkward at having to explain himself. 

"Space? I get it. I needed a break from all of the noise too. Living at Headquarters does have its drawbacks." Sirius poured a very generous splash and handed it back to Harry. 

"You do?" Harry asked hopefully. 

"Of course I do. It's perfectly natural for people who have lost what we have lost, Harry."

"It is? I'm not… broken?" He stumbled over the last word, embarrassed at finally having spoken that thought out loud. 

"Ah, Harry." Sirius smiled and got out of the chair, bringing him over to the sofa. "Sit with me, they won't miss us, I promise." He motioned for Harry to join him as he sat down.

"What's wrong with me, Sirius?" Harry hardly whispered. Sirius still heard him. 

"Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. Everything that you're feeling is valid, yeah? That doesn't mean that it's all true."

"What does that even mean?" Harry groaned, raking his fingers through his hair.

“It means that your feelings are valid. Let yourself acknowledge and feel them. They are your feelings, Harry, and you have a right to feel them.” Sirius put a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder as he took a sip of his wine.

Harry took that as a cue and took a sip of his too. It was bitter, but tart. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.

“Okay, my feelings are valid, but how can they not be true then?” Harry challenged.

“That’s where the depression comes in. It starts telling you things that are not true, but you believe them anyway and they make you feel isolated and alone. Sound familiar?” Sirius smirked. 

"But I'm not depressed, I'm not sad all the time and I don't want to kill myself I'm...I'm just… unhappy, I suppose. There are people who have it way worse than me." Harry couldn't look him in the eye so he stared at his wine instead. 

"There will always be someone who has it worse. That does not invalidate your struggle. What you're going through and what you're feeling is relatively normal. I've been depressed since I was about your age, and I've learned a trick or two over the years. I can help you if you want." 

"You were depressed at my age?" Harry was skeptical. He seemed so confident in all of his younger pictures. 

"You bet your arse I was. I even ran away to your dad's." He laughed. It was like a switch flipped in his brain and his face progressed from happy to horrified in .2 seconds. "Harry- Lily's sister and them… they're not...are they... abusing you?" 

"Erm, I suppose so? Pissed the Weasley's right off, didn't it?" He tried to play it down.

"Bullshit. Tell me." He frowned.

Harry locked eyes with him and then everything just came pouring out. He couldn't stop talking. He told Sirius everything; about being starved and locked inside his room, about his cupboard under the stairs, about the intrusive thoughts that were getting progressively worse, about the nightmares about Cedric, about his scar hurting and being frustrated about being kept in the dark all summer. 

And Sirius listened. He didn't judge Harry or interrupt him with questions or try to change the subject. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When Harry was finished all Sirius did was pour him another splash of wine. After a long pause, Sirius took a deep breath and sat up. He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed at his face. 

"Okay, that's all valid. Your feelings are valid, but Harry, don't think for one moment that those thoughts are true." Sirius reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. "You're not broken, you're coping." 

"Not broken, just coping?" Harry's heart felt a little less heavy at the prospect. 

"Exactly. Not broken, just coping." Sirius kissed his head. Harry felt… safe at that moment. Secure. He felt better. For the first time in a very long time, he almost felt whole.  
***

"What do you mean you're quitting Quidditch?!" Theo was outraged. 

"I'm sorry, I just… I don't think I can. With everything that has been going on… I don't think I could focus on the game." Draco picked nonexistent lint from his shirt. 

“That’s a load of dragon dung and you know it.” Pansy sighed, laying back on Draco’s bed as if she belonged there. 

With the frequency of Death Eater meetings, she pretty much did. Pansy and Theo had become almost permanent fixtures of his bedroom. Draco was secretly grateful, although he would never admit such a thing out loud. 

“Quidditch is the best distraction there is from everything that’s been going on.” Theo insisted. 

They had been playing two-a-side quidditch with Greg and Vince every chance they got. Pansy always opted to be the referee. She was more interested in her nails than a quaffle. As long as Draco and Theo split up the games were somewhat fair. Both Greg and Vince were horrible, Theo and Draco were very good. It evened out in the end, and it gave them all an excuse to get out of the manor.

“You just don’t want to get stuck on the team alone with Flint.” Draco rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day. 

"What about seeing Potter in all of his Quidditch gear?" Theo elbowed him in the ribs. "It would be a damn shame to miss that, eh?"

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Pansy smirked, sitting up. 

She was suddenly very alert and watching Draco’s every expression. He sighed and shook his head. Seeing Harry in his Quidditch gear? Is that what he had come to? Was tight leather really going to be the highlight of his year? He looked around his abnormally messy bedroom. The mess was the result of being cooped up here all summer. It was the only place he could be free of the Dark Lord. Yes, it is exactly what it had come to.

"It would be a shame." He hummed. 

"Maybe Quidditch won't be so bad?" Pansy gave him a playful push. 

There were so few reasons to smile lately that Draco found himself becoming grateful for each and every one. Pansy’s unfaltering optimism despite all logic would always be one he was grateful for the most. 

“Yeah, alright. I suppose I could play.” He smiled weakly.

Theo sat down next to him and pulled him in for a hug.

"It will be a nice distraction for both of us." He muttered, rubbing soothing circles on Draco's arms. Draco sank into the comfort. 

“Besides, you would never deprive me of the chance to see you both in your Quidditch gear.” Pansy winked at them. 

Right there at that moment Draco almost felt like he was any normal 15 year old. Laughing in his bedroom with his friends, talking about boys and sports…. Why did life have to become so complex?  
***

"Why the bloody hell would you do that?!" Theo shouted, cornering Draco in the empty locker room. The rest of the team had already walked back up to the castle. Draco rather thought it was the perfect place to be alone, dripping blood onto the worn bench. He should probably go to the hospital wing….

"I don't know..." Draco felt his shoulders sag at that confession.

It had been the game he was looking forward to the most. He didn’t even care who actually won. So why had he acted like that?

"Why'd you have a go at his dead mum?!" Theo demanded. 

"I was angry!" Draco looked up miserably. "I was mad. I didn't mean to- it was that damn Weasel. He got me all riled up and then bloody saint Potter came charging to his rescue and I just got caught up in the unfairness of it all." 

"Which part?" Theo crossed his arms, unimpressed with Draco’s answer. “The part where you let Potter catch the snitch? Or the part where you pitched a bitch fit about it and goaded him and the Weasley's into beating the absolute shite outta you?" 

"Just… all of it. The whole bloody thing." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose until it hurt. It distracted him from the pain in his jaw and cheekbones. Harry and the Weasley twin had done quite the number on him before they had been pulled off. His ribs gave a sharp pain so he sat back against the lockers with a grimace.

“You going to be alright?” Theo’s tone was softer and Draco wasn’t sure which was worse; his friend and teammates anger or his pity.

“No, I bloody well won’t be.” Draco grit his teeth. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t even think! One minute I was in complete control of myself and the next Harry’s fist is in my face...and I-” 

“Hey, we all have a lot going on. Especially you.” Theo was hard-pressed to find an uninjured place to pat him reassuringly. He eventually settled for the middle of his head.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Draco looked up at him with unshed tears. “I didn’t use to be this angry. And it never stops. I’m just so frustrated all the time.”

“I know, I get it! Me too. It’s harder for you because your family is the most trusted, but I get it. You’re not alone in any of this.” Theo frowned.

“I just want it all to stop.” Draco absolutely did not cry. A traitorous tear leaked out and slid down his swollen cheek and he tried to swallow back the onslaught of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Does this mean you're quitting?" Theo asked softly, sitting gently next to him.

"What?" Draco looked over at him in confusion. 

"Quidditch. Your only reason for staying on the team just got a life long ban." He shrugged. 

"Oh. Of course, I quit." Draco pouted sourly. 

“I’ll let Flint know.” Theo nodded curtly, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts. 

Those rare moments where he got to watch Harry lose himself in the rush of flying were like gulps of fresh air for a drowning man. Without them, Draco didn’t know how he was supposed to survive. His father was putting more and more pressure on him to prove his loyalty to The Dark Lord. Draco just wanted to hide until this was all over. Maybe once the war was over, no matter which side won, he could be free. Free from the chains of family ties and pureblooded bigotry, free from the constraints of having to behave as a Pureblood should… just… free.  
***

Harry jerked awake drenched in sweat. It wasn't a dream. His scar felt as if a thousand torches were burning beneath it and Harry thrashed in pain. His covers were all twisted around him and he shivered from the cold sweat coating his body. He could hear voices in the distance.

“HARRY!” Ron’s voice filtered through the fog. He was standing over Harry looking terrified. 

The rest of the dorm was gathered around him with matching expressions of shock and fear. Harry felt like throwing up. No, he was going to throw up. He leaned over the edge of his mattress and let the pain overwhelm him for a moment. When he was done he pushed himself up in bed and cradled his head in his hands. He had to tell Ron! He had to warn him! 

“Ron! It’s your dad- He’s been attacked!” Harry was shaking so violently that his teeth started to chatter. 

“I’m going to go get help!” Neville’s voice floated over him. 

“It’s alright, Harry. You were just dreaming. Neville’s gone for help.” Ron shrugged.

It was impossible to think over the throbbing in his head. He gasped and moved towards the edge of the bed as a new wave of nausea washed over him. Ron took a couple of steps back as he dry-heaved. 

“It wasn't a dream! It was real, I was there!” Harry panted. “There was so much blood, he was bitten by a snake, we need to help him!” 

“Calm down mate, you were just dreaming.” Ron said softly.

“No! This wasn’t a dream. This is different. He’s really hurt, just trust me!” He growled in frustration, his scar still burning.

It felt like it wanted to explode. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. Eventually, Harry recognized it as one of the signs of a panic attack. Sirius had warned him about them after the hearing. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something he could physically feel. His hair was beneath his fingers and he took a moment to focus on how it felt. He could hear his own ragged breathing and he listened to it, focusing on calming it down. He managed to get a tentative hold on himself before Neville returned with a clearly recently woken McGonagall on his heels. 

“What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?” She rushed over to him, tartan dressing gown trailing behind her

Harry had never been more pleased to see her in all his life. Here was an Order member who would take him seriously. 

“It’s Ron’s dad, he’s been attacked by a giant snake. It’s bad, he’s bleeding everywhere. This is serious! I saw it happen.” Harry pleaded with her to understand him when she made eye contact.

“What do you mean you saw it happen?” her face darkened.

“I don’t know, one minute I was dreaming and the next I was in the stone corridor.”

“You dreamt this?” 

“No! It was real, I was dreaming before this, something stupid and then this interrupted it.” Harry clutched at his forehead. The pain was slowly receding. “I didn’t imagine this! Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor of a stone corridor and a snake attacked him, there’s so much blood, he needs help! Someone has to find out where he is!” 

Professor McGonagall was staring at him through lopsided spectacles with a horrified expression on her face. 

“I’m not mad, I didn’t dream it, please- you need to believe me.” He almost shouted, desperate to be taken seriously.

“I believe you, Potter. We’re taking this to the headmaster. Grab your dressing gown and follow me.” She said curtly, exiting the dormitory to wait for him in the common room. 

Harry sighed with relief and threw on the closest set of robes before scrambling after her. He had followed Sirius’s advice and now he was being taken seriously. He almost smiled. That pun basically made itself. Then he remembered tearing into Mr. Weasley and all humor was chased from his thoughts. He would need another chat with Sirius soon. Why- and more worryingly, how- had he been the snake?  
****

Turns out saving someone’s life didn’t make you feel less defiled when you find out there is a piece of Voldemort inside you. None of the Weasleys were able to look him in the eye for the rest of the afternoon and it was driving Harry spare. Did they think he was going to transform into the snake and attack them? He had taken to hiding with Sirius in Buckbeak’s room during the day. It was easier, not being around his friends. He didn’t have to try for Sirius. It was almost freeing. 

When his friends did eventually corner him about avoiding them it was nice to see that they cared, but he could never open up to them the way he does with Sirius. He didn’t want them to think he was weak. He didn’t see the need to stop hanging out with Sirius in Buckbeak’s room, so he just made more of an effort to spend time with everyone else too. Harry was pleased to see Sirius join him in this venture. He even started singing carols as they helped everyone decorate for Christmas. It seemed their daily talks were doing both of them some good then. Harry was really going to miss them when he went back to Hogwarts. 

When Sirius gave Harry James’s old mirror and explained how it worked on the last day before term Harry almost cried. It was perfect. Exactly what he needed, especially now that he was going to have Snape poking around in his head. He might just survive the rest of this year.  
****

Christmas dinner was looming ever nearer and Draco was terrified. That left only two days before he would be introduced to The Dark Lord. He knew what this was. This was the preliminary meeting where Voldemort would basically interview him and decide to make him a death eater. He knew it would happen some time, but why so soon? He wasn’t even sixteen yet. He was supposed to still have a year! What happened to that rule?

He tried to stop his shoulders from shaking, but he was alone so what did it matter? His path had been chosen for him long ago. He was a Malfoy, after all. That thought almost made him smile as he added shading to Harry’s hair. Drawing the object of his forbidden love was just about the most Un-Malfoy-ish thing he could do and he relished in it. The rest of the house was asleep and he was finally, truly alone. If he didn’t have his art as an outlet he didn’t know what he would do. He flipped through his sketch pad with a twisted smile on his face. Every single page had Harry staring up at him. That finished the last sketchbook he had bought this past summer. Luckily he knew Pansy’s real present was a new one secured safely in his dorm back at Hogwarts. His parents had been pleased with her Honeydukes decoy though, and that’s all that mattered. He would just have to draw on spare bits of parchment for the rest of Christmas break. Maybe he should try to draw someone other than Harry…. Then again, maybe not.  
****

“What.” Pansy’s face paled and Theo didn’t want to meet his eyes. He knew they would react like this.

“I’m set to take the mark this summer.” Draco threw a pillow across the room. Pansy tossed him another and he launched it at the opposite wall. “He says he’s got some job for me next year and that I should feel honored.”

“I’ll take it too. I’ll take it with you. You don’t have to do this alone.” Theo clenched his fists.

“You can’t unless he invites you, you know that.” Pansy snapped, pulling Draco into a tight hug. Theo closed him in and suddenly he was enveloped in a group hug.

“I’ll still be here for you, every step of the way,” Theo vowed.

“We agreed, sod the world, save ourselves, yeah?” Pansy laughed. Draco nodded. “Well then sod the world, taking the mark ensures you survive? Take it. Save yourself. Do what you have to do to survive. And I think I speak for both of us when I say we will back you up, no matter what. You said it, during the third task. We’re in this together.” 

“We don’t want this war any more than you do.” Theo pulled Draco until he sat on his bed with him.

“It doesn’t matter what side anyone thinks we’re on. We will do what we can to end it as quickly as possible.” Pansy sank next to him on his other side. 

“Sod the world?” Draco smiled weakly.

“Save ourselves!” Pansy and Theo chimed together, laughing. Leave it to these two idiots to make him laugh when all he wanted to do was cry. He might just survive this break.


	5. In Which a present finally gets used, hearts get broken and something unexpected happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a call to Sirius and Draco gets orders from home. Life is just starting to get harder for the both of them and they each react in unique ways. This chapter moves rather fast, bringing us from the last half of 5th year into the summer before 6th year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! This chapter is heartbreaking. To be fair, I did tag major character deaths- so you can't be mad at me! Shout-out to my darling beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark for putting up with me and helping me make sense of my ramblings.   
> If you like what you're reading, please leave kudos and a comment! If you don't, leave some constructive criticism on how I can improve! Either way, happy reading!

As soon as Harry got back to his dorm he threw himself at his trunk and started searching frantically for that damn mirror. He needed to talk to Sirius now. He finally found it and pushed himself onto the bed.

“Sirius, are you there? Sirius talk to me!” He called to his own reflection, feeling foolish. It didn’t take long for his reflection to shimmer and transform into Sirius’s face.

“What’s up, Harry?”

“Bloody hell, that worked.” Harry blinked in surprise. “You can really hear me?” 

“Well, I have to be by my mirror to answer your call, but I’ll always be able to hear you when you call it. And yours works the same way, it’s like an instant message system.”

“Wicked.” Harry took a moment to be mildly impressed by Sirius and his father’s magic when they were his age. 

“What do you need?’ Sirius grinned and Harry was reminded of the reason for the call. 

He suddenly discovered he didn’t know what it was he had wanted so badly to say.

“I erm, I saw one of Snape’s old memories….after you all took your OWLS… and I was just wondering…. Were you guys, you Lupin and Dad…. were you good people?” He tried to surmise his question as best he could.

Now that he was face-to-face with Sirius (or reflection-to-reflection) he felt ashamed to have even asked the question. Sirius’s face darkened for a moment and then he turned red. 

“In the end, I’d like to think so.” He said somewhat evasively. 

“Sirius, please. From what I saw…. It looked bad. Tell me he deserved it.”

“It was a rivalry, we were young and clever and just stupid enough to let our brains get us into trouble. Your dad and Snape hated each other. They each hexed the other any chance they got, it wasn’t one-sided.”

“My mum….she asked what he had ever done to you and you said it was more that he existed.” Harry let the statement hang in the air. Sirius at least had enough decency to look ashamed at that. 

“We were young and dumb, we didn’t-”

“Same age as I am now.” Harry interjected. 

“That’s a good point, but you were forced to grow up too quickly. James and I, we clung to boyhood for so long because of the war. We knew we would have to grow up soon so we were as reckless as possible while we had the chance. I’m not defending the way we treated Snape that afternoon. Of course not. But when we were younger we thought everything had to be black and white. He was hanging around the Death Eater crowd so we hated him. We often took it too far, but so did he. Lily never spoke to him again after that day. I think that made him hate James all the more.”

“So it was a rivalry. That still makes you bullies because you attacked him two on one.” Harry set his jaw stubbornly.

“He didn’t exactly fight fair either,” Sirius growled. “Of course you didn’t see his glory days.”

“I’m sorry, I guess the memory is rather one-sided.” Harry allowed. 

“Harry…. The world isn’t divided into good people and Death Eaters. We all have a mixture of light and dark within us, fighting to break free. It is what we choose to act on that counts."

"But what if you think bad thoughts or you hurt someone? Surely you can't still be a good person…." Harry trailed off. He had bad thoughts all too often lately.

"Oh, Harry." Sirius gave him an understanding smile. "The concept of 'good and evil' is not a broad enough spectrum for morality. The world is a complex place filled with complex people. No one is completely 'good' just as no one is completely 'evil.' Everyone has the capacity to do good or bad deeds, or even morally grey ones. Sometimes you’re going to have to be the villain in someone else's story, just don’t forget to be the hero in yours.” Sirius was pacing, the background of the mirror was constantly shifting. 

Harry paused to consider this new point of view. It seemed to make sense. Sirius knew what he did was wrong. Was he honestly any better with Draco Malfoy? Malfoy’s comment at the Yule Ball came back to him. 

I'm oddly glad we had this chance to chat without firing off hexes at each other.

“Well, alright then.” Harry felt a grin creeping onto his face. 

"Alright?" Sirius arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah. Thank you, you always know the right thing to say. I don't know what I'd do without you." He suddenly became super interested in the loose thread on his sweater sleeve. 

"Well, good thing you'll never have to find out then." Sirius barked a laugh and Harry joined in. 

"I guess I should let you go then?" Harry said sadly. 

"For now." Sirius winked before he disappeared from the mirror.  
****

Draco stared down at his father's letter in horror. Cozy up to Umbridge? Join this Inquisitorial Squad? Umbridge was foul even for a Death Eater. The fact that she wasn't one was somehow more terrifying. Besides, she was after Harry. Draco wasn't dumb. He could see every game and plot Umbridge pulled. He didn't want to be part of her sodding squad. 

"Orders from home?" Theo nodded at the letter in Draco's hand, holding up his own letter from his father. Draco nodded curtly, tossing his letter to the floor. 

"Have to uphold the family honor." He rolled his eyes at Theo.

"She's not even a Death Eater. Why do we have to bow down to some ministry bitch?" Theo's bottom lip jutted out as he slipped into full sulk mode.

"She's important in the Ministry and apparently sympathetic to the Dark Lord’s ideals. The grapevine has it that she has been gaining power. If we can get her in a high enough position it will be easy to take over the Ministry and Hogwarts from the inside. My dad told me." Draco grimaced. 

"So it's not enough to serve the Dark Lord, now we have to serve the Ministry too?" Theo sank down onto Draco's bed. He seemed to be taking the dark lord's return to power even worse than Draco. 

"Only until the Ministry stops benefitting him with their inane denial of his return." He scoffed, wrapping him in a warm hug as they sat there together. 

"Right. Fudge is an idiot. We're screwed."  
****

This was all Harry’s fault. 

If he hadn’t let Voldemort lure him here with visions of torturing Sirius none of his friends would be in danger. How could he be so stupid? Harry glanced around at the chaos around him. Every last one of them was in the Department of Mysteries because of his idiocy. Hermione and Ron were already hurt. Who else had to suffer due to his inadequacy? 

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius laughed, dodging a jet of red light.

Harry looked back to see Bellatrix shoot off the killing curse and Harry froze.

A jet of green light arced gracefully over the dwindling battle. When it found its mark in the middle of Sirius’s chest the world stopped spinning. Sirius’s laughter had not yet faded from his face as his eyes grew wide in shock. Time seemed to slow down, then stop entirely.

Harry dropped Neville on the step they had been on and raced towards Sirius. He still had a smile on his lips as he fell backward through the whispering veil. 

Each second seemed to last a lifetime and yet Harry could not move fast enough. Blood turned to ice in his veins as he watched his godfather fall. 

Everything shattered. 

Nothing mattered. 

Everything mattered and Harry thought he would suffocate beneath the weight of it all. He could feel his legs climbing the dais, running to pull Sirius back- but it was as if he was running through treacle tart.

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around his shoulders, yanking him away from the veil. Harry barely registered the grim face of Remus Lupin before he stopped fighting and let the adults take over.

He can’t quite believe any of this is real. Sirius just got knocked back, he’d be popping around the other side of the dais any moment now. He’d shake his hair out of his face with a laugh and go charging right back into battle.

So where was he? 

Harry started getting impatient. Couldn’t Sirius hear him calling out for him? Surely he wouldn’t keep Harry waiting….

Everything shattered all over again when Harry realized he wouldn’t. 

Sirius would never keep Harry waiting. Especially not with the desperate and broken way Harry had been calling his name. Harry turned towards Remus, looking for him to explain what had happened. Sirius wasn’t…. He couldn’t be... 

A single tear escaped as Remus fought for control, staring up at the gossamer black veil. He looked like he could not quite believe what he was seeing. Or he didn’t want to. 

That was it then. 

Harry didn’t know which way was up. All he felt was pain. If Remus hadn’t been trying to hold him back only moments previously Harry would have collapsed onto the floor. 

Remus stumbled under the unexpected weight when Harry went limp in his arms. He grit his teeth and shifted Harry’s weight so he was helping him walk rather than holding him. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not yet. He had to be strong. Sirius would want him to be strong, for Harry. Dumbledore soon made his way over to the pair. He patted Remus’s shoulder in silent sympathy before relieving him of Harry’s grieving form. Harry would be safe with Dumbledore.

Remus absently climbed the rest of the way up the dais. The veil was fluttering and he had the strangest urge to reach for it, to just stick his hand through. 

Remus knew better, of course. He didn’t know why he was standing here, uselessly staring at this damned black veil. What was he supposed to do now? 

Alone. 

He was all alone. Lily and James, now Sirius. Peter was worse than dead. He was the only one left. He sank to his knees in front of the veil, bowing his head as his tears overflowed. 

Padfoot was gone.  
*** 

Pain. 

Endless pain. 

It wasn’t even his arm. His entire soul ached. His very being was rubbed raw. He couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t pain. He was shaking when Theo walked in. He stopped in his tracks, took one look at Draco, and was at his side in an instant. 

“You’re out.” He gasped, wrapping Draco in a tight, rib crushing hug. “No need to ask how you are.” 

“Father lied.” Draco said, his voice flat. 

“What about this time?” Theo didn’t let him go and Draco was grateful.

“He said it wouldn’t hurt. He said he didn’t feel a thing.” Draco’s voice faltered on the last word.

“Well, I’ll kick his arse for it when he gets out of Azkaban.” Theo whispered. “Come on, let's get you up to your room.” 

Draco didn't even know what he wanted so he let Theo guide him through his home. His thoughts were racing and his pulse was thudding and he just felt scared. Scared, and hurt, and terrified. And pain. 

Copious amounts of pain. 

This mark meant he could never be with Harry. No long shots or small possibilities. He was a Death Eater now. Harry could never love a Death Eater. He had heard the most trusted talking as the Dark Lord was carving and burning the dark mark into his flesh with magic. Apparently, the last person to scream while receiving the mark was someone named Regulus. Apparently, he disappeared without a trace. Not even the Dark Lord seemed to know what had happened to him. Draco didn’t take that as a good omen. He tried harder to hide his pain after that. 

Even his soul felt tainted by the mark. He hated it. He vaguely noticed when they entered his room. He just kept walking until his legs hit the bed, then he collapsed face-first onto his mattress. He heard the heavy thud of his door shutting and then suddenly Theo was stroking his hair, climbing up onto the bed with him. 

“It’s ok Draco, I’ve got you. Sod the rest of the world, yeah?” Theo muttered, pulling Draco into his lap. 

“I… I can’t think past the pain, Theo.” Draco’s voice sounded weak even to his own ears. 

He could feel a mass rising in his throat. All of the anger and pain and hatred that he had been holding back was contained in that mass. When it broke free Draco was swept away. He felt everything. All of those negative emotions were overwhelming, pulling him closer to the black.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I’ve got you.” Theo wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him closer. 

“I-I-I need-” Draco was shaking with the power of the onslaught. “Merlin, please help me. M-m-make me feel anything but this.” 

Theo’s soft, warm lips were suddenly enveloping his own as Theo’s hands tangled in Draco’s hair. He was about to push him away when he realized that everywhere Theo touched didn’t hurt. He surrendered completely, shifting their position so that they could be closer. When Theo bit his bottom lip he gasped at the pain. Theo lost no time in taking advantage of his open lips, plundering his mouth the moment the sigh had escaped. Lust began to boil within his veins and he deepened the kiss. Theo’s grunt of approval spurred him to be bolder. Draco pushed Theo back towards his pillows, coaxing him with kisses along the way. When he had Theo right where he wanted him he climbed on top, straddling his hips. When he trailed his kisses down Theo’s neck something hard strained against his thigh. 

Fire. 

Sweat and heat and lust. 

At least it wasn’t pain.  
***

Harry was aware that Dumbledore had used him to get Slughorn to teach. He didn't really care. Although to be fair, he didn't really care about much these days. The fact that he had left it till literally the last minute to finish packing was evidence alone. The only thing he was able to look forward to was spending almost a whole summer at the Burrow and not with the Dursleys. 

Harry didn't even mind when Dumbledore blatantly manipulated him into being 'The Chosen One' or whatever the bloody hell you wanted to call it. Of course, he would do everything in his power to protect the people who matter to him. He didn't need to be coerced into that. 

What he hadn't expected to feel was… accepted at the Burrow. Or even almost normal, if not still numb. He found out that he got on with Fred and George better than he ever knew. He was kicking himself for not getting closer to them before they left Hogwarts. If he wasn't with Ron and Hermione he was with George and Fred. He loved the constant companionship. If there was always someone there Harry never had to be alone with his thoughts. He could pretend to be a real person for a little while. He almost didn't mind existing. 

Then night falls. Then everything goes quiet. A hurricane of loud thoughts and bottled up grief and fear and anger rages. He can't sleep, and even when he could he was plagued with nightmares about Cedric and Sirius. Everyone thought he was so strong. That he was Harry freakin Potter! He should be able to handle anything. After all, what was life if you weren't constantly fighting Voldemort? Sirius was gone. There was no one left for him to talk to. He felt like he was suffocating, gasping for breath. It was all getting to be just too much.  
***

Draco grunted as he was shoved against his bedroom door, Theo pressed up against his body. He wasn't having any of that so he grabbed Theo's hips and forcibly took control. He submitted quickly as they fumbled their way to his bed. 

He may be marked, but he still wasn't of age. The Death Eater meetings were still off-limits, which suited Draco just fine. It left time for other...leisurely activities with his friends. 

Any time the adults left them alone Draco and Theo couldn't keep their hands off each other. There was one memorable night when the adults sat him and Theo together at the far end of the table with the rest of the Death Eater offspring. Greg and Vince were too thick to notice and Pansy was torn between being outraged and turned on when they started touching each other under the table. 

That was another memorable night. Pansy had walked in on them and wanted to join in. Everything was great until Theo started getting jealous. His face got red and he avoided eye contact as he growled something about wanting to be exclusive. 

"What, like be my actual boyfriend?" Draco had laughed. Theo wiped that sarcastic smile right off his face with his reply.

"Yes."

"Oh." Draco blinked. "Well, alright then." 

"Alright then?" Theo questioned. 

"I accept." He nodded curtly. 

"You accept?" Theo's eyes were blown wide in shock.

"You want to be my actual boyfriend? Alright, you're my actual boyfriend. Simple as that. We're dating." 

"What about Potter? "

"He doesn't matter now."


	6. In which Harry has a chivalrous streak and Theo hates how perceptive Pansy is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixth year is here at last, but it isn't everything Harry had hoped it would be, Draco learns something that changes everything for him, and Theo and Pansy speculate about love and hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! We are starting to pick up the pace in these next few chapters. We're going to move through sixth year just as quickly as we ran through fifth, and then things will slow down a little and start getting a little more detailed during seventh year. There is a LOT of angst and painful emotion all through seventh year so brace yourself!  
> As always, a HUGE thank you to my lovely beta readers, AlexClio and SandZhark! This fic wouldn't be possible without them!  
> Happy reading!

Hot blood gushed down the back of Harry’s throat and trickled into his mouth as he lay frozen on the floor. 

He couldn't move.

He couldn't speak.

He couldn't even blink.

Any hope of being found slipped away as he remembered Malfoy had draped his invisibility cloak over him before trodding on his fingers on his way out. Harry spiraled into hopelessness. If anyone had even noticed his absence surely they would have come to look for him by now? He thought he could hear the rustling of the trees and the far-off hoot of an owl, but no hint of a search being made. Harry despised himself for even hoping that his newfound status as “the Chosen One” would have caused enough of a fuss for them to send out a search party. He internally cursed Draco Malfoy for putting him in this position, then started cursing the rest of the sixth year Slytherins as well for good measure. Just as he reached the end of the list of Slytherins he knew by name his invisibility cloak was ripped off of him. 

Standing above him was a familiar pink haired witch and Harry exhaled his relief as she cast the counter jinx and he could finally move again. 

“Wortcher, Harry.” She flashed him a sad smile as she helped him up, handing him the cloak. “We better get out of here quickly or we will be well on our way back to London.”

“Right, thanks.” Harry tried to nod and instantly regretted it. His stiff muscles protested his sudden movement. 

Steam was billowing past the compartment windows, obscuring the view of Hogsmeade by moonlight. The rumble beneath his feet confirmed what the smoke had only hinted at. They were gathering speed.

“We will have to make a jump for it.” Tonks called over the roar of the wind as she opened the train door and leaped smoothly onto the platform. 

Harry's nose and cheekbones were throbbing, and his body felt as if it were made of lead. The fall from the luggage rack to the floor probably left a couple of good bruises. He winced at the pain but was still able to be amused that Tonks had just accomplished jumping out of a moving train gracefully. 

The platform seemed to be sliding underneath him as the train gathered momentum. Harry swore and followed after Tonks, staggering a little on the landing. He managed to look back just in time to see the gleaming scarlet steam engine pick up speed, round the corner, and disappear. The cold night air felt like a soothing balm to his injured nose and he closed his eyes at the slight sense of relief. When he opened them again Tonks was looking at him in a calculating manner, tilting her head ever so slightly as she finally took in his macabre appearance.

“Who was it?” She frowned, pulling out her wand. She waved it quickly and a massive silvery four-legged creature erupted from the tip before cantering off towards Hogwarts.

"Draco Malfoy. He caught me by surprise." Harry said evasively. "Thanks for coming to look for me."

"No problem." Tonks nodded curtly at him. Even in the dark of night, she looked miserable and Harry didn't know how to help. 

“How did you find me?” He asked instead.

“I’m stationed in Hogsmeade to keep an eye on things. I didn’t see you get off the train with your friends so I started to worry.” She kept her gaze straight ahead as they started down the carriage-carved path. “When the last carriage left for Hogwarts and I still hadn’t seen you I hopped on board and started combing each compartment. I figured you must be hiding under your cloak or something so I tried summoning it.”

“Brilliant.” Harry started to smile and immediately stopped. Apparently, certain lip movements tweaked his nose just enough to make it shoot pulsating pain through his cheeks bones.

“I can fix your nose if you stand still.” Tonks sighed, coming to a stop and pointing her wand in his face 

"Er," Harry blinked. 

He wasn't too fond of the idea of letting anyone but Madame Pomfrey tend to his injuries. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tonks's casting, he knew she was deadly accurate with a hex. Lockheart completely de-boning his arm back in second year had made him leery of anyone but the matron performing healing spells on him. Not wanting to upset an already dour Tonks, however, he closed his eyes and stood absolutely still. 

"Episkey." She swished her wand.

Harry's nose suddenly felt very cold, then very hot. When the broken bone started to mend itself he had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed not to itch it. A few moments later she placed her hand under his chin to examine her handiwork. She gently moved his head side to side and then nodded in apparent satisfaction. Before Harry could even thank her (again), she was striding down the dark road again at a brisk pace.

Tonks felt different. 

Off somehow. 

Harry glanced at her cautiously. Last year, she’d been smiling and full of jokes most of the time. The Tonks walking next to him silently in the night was withdrawn and flat. It felt wrong.

“Was that a Patronus you sent off just a bit ago?” Harry asked to break the silence. 

“I was sending word to the castle that I’ve got you so they don’t worry." Her demeanor was still aloof and distracted.

Harry didn't like it. 

“Are you the only one stationed up here, or —?” Harry pried. He knew he was forcing conversation at this point but he couldn't bear the silence.

“No, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish are here too.” She replied monotonously. 

“Isn't Dawlish that Auror Dumbledore attacked last year?” He queried. 

“That’s right.” They trudged up the dark, deserted lane together and Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. 

It was as if her entire personality had changed. This Tonks was a shell of the one he met last summer, making Harry slightly worried for her. Was this all the effect of what had happened at the Ministry? 

He reflected uncomfortably that Hermione would suggest he say something reassuring about Sirius to her, that it hadn’t been her fault. Every time he opened his mouth, however, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Of course he didn’t blame her for his godfather’s death. It wasn’t her fault. If anyone should be feeling guilt-ridden, it was him. He fell for Voldemort’s trap. If he hadn’t needed saving from rushing off to save Sirius he wouldn’t have had to die.

Somehow he felt that if he tried to say something to her he would break down right then and there. He did not like talking about Sirius if he could avoid it. And so they tramped on through the cold night in silence, Tonks’s long cloak whispering on the ground behind them. 

Having always traveled there by carriage or boat, Harry had never fully appreciated just how far Hogwarts was from Hogsmeade Station. He sighed in relief when he finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the gates, each topped with a winged boar. He was cold, he was melancholic, and he was quite keen to burrow underneath his covers in his dormitory.

Harry could make out a pinprick of light slowly moving towards them. They reached the school gates at the same time as the lantern wielder and Harry felt a spark of loathing ignite within him as he recognized the pallid pallor and dark curtains of hair.

“How nice of you to join us, Potter.” Snape’s expression was almost gleeful. 

Harry’s heart sank. If Snape was pleased that meant he was in for a bad night.

“I meant for Hagrid to get my message.” Tonks said cooly, narrowing her eyes at Snape as he unlocked the gates with a muttered spell. 

“Hagrid was delayed in coming to the feast, much like our precious chosen one.” He sneered malevolently, moving to allow Harry to enter the grounds.

“Don’t you go giving Harry a hard time-” Tonks started but Snape cut her off sharply.

“I was particularly interested to see your new Patronus. I think you were better off with the old one,” Snape smirked vindictively, the malice in his voice unmistakable. “The new one looks weak.”

Shock and horrified anger flashed across Tonks’s face before she was able to regain control. She opened her mouth to respond but Snape talked over again. 

“There is no need to stay, Nymphadora. Potter is- ah- quite safe in my hands.”

Harry looked at her pleadingly with wide eyes. Her expression softened but she shook her head ever so slightly in apology as Snape shut the gates in her face and tapped the chains with his wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place.

“Thanks for...everything.” He said somewhat lamely. He wanted to comfort her, tell her Snape was vile, and to not listen to a word he said. 

“See ya, Harry.” She waved sadly before turning to walk back to Hogsmead, leaving him alone with Snape.

Rage.

Anger.

Humiliation.

White-hot hatred bubbled up inside of him. His blood felt as if it were literally coming to a boil in his veins. 

Snape marched them up the long drive in irritated silence, but Harry didn’t count on that lasting much longer. It was still quite the trek to the Castle. Snape was radiating every bit as much loathing and vexation as Harry, and he took small comfort in that fact. Halfway back to the castle Snape opened his mouth in a sneer, breaking the tense silence between them.

“I suppose you thought you would make a dramatic entrance now that you’re the chosen one.” He spat out.

“I was petrified and literally walked on. Yes, I really planned all of that out, right down to the broken nose.” Harry snarked back. Was he serious? 

“Ten points from Gryffindor, for your cheek. I’ll take another twenty for the muggle clothing in place of your school robes and thirty more for your tardiness.” Snape radiated smug satisfaction. “ I don’t think any house has ever managed to go into the negatives before term even technically begins. You must be proud, I think you broke a new record.” 

Harry lapsed into a stony silence, refusing to rise to Snape’s obvious bait. As if he didn’t feel inadequate enough already. Regardless of what Dumbledore said, Snape was foul. He had loathed Snape from their first encounter. This past June, however, Snape had placed himself irrevocably beyond the possibility of Harry’s forgiveness by his attitude toward Sirius.

Harry had plenty of time to think over the summer. No matter which way he looked at it, Snape’s snide digs at Sirius about having to hide out whilst the rest of the Order was risking their lives had probably been a powerful factor in Sirius' decision to go to the Ministry. Harry clung to this notion, happy to have a scapegoat. It enabled him to blame Snape, which felt satisfying in and of itself. Harry also knew that if anyone was not sorry that Sirius was dead, it was the man now striding next to him in the darkness.

Snape kept droning on but Harry was done listening. He didn't really care about what Snape thought. His heart ached from thinking about Sirius too long so he turned his thoughts back to Malfoy and what he had heard before he was discovered and petrified. Based on Malfoy's bragging it almost sounded as if…

Harry's heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach and his vision pinned. Hogwarts looked farther away than it had been just a second ago and he felt strangely detached. Snape’s sardonic voice faded into an unintelligible monotone as Harry struggled to breathe. There wasn't any warning this time.

How had he gone from being mad at Malfoy and Snape to having a full-blown panic attack? There hadn't been any early stages, he just jumped right into the middle. 

Each second passed as slowly as Dudley's metabolism and each step felt like marching through quicksand. His mind was screaming 'Stop! Let me catch my breath!' yet his body refused to obey. He kept walking, silently falling apart right beside Snape of all people. 

Harry tried to think of a quick coping mechanism as they drew nearer to the front steps. He frantically cast his mind back, thinking of all of his chats with Sirius. 

Worse! 

So much worse. 

Deathly cold torrents flooded the chasm of his soul as a vision of Sirius falling, his last laugh still etched onto his handsome features played over and over again in his mind. 

Now there was a large lump in his throat that refused to budge no matter how many times he tried to swallow. He had been thinking about him too much, now the mere thought of what he had lost was enough to obliterate any rational thought.

Snape kept at his diatribe as they began to ascend the stone stairs at last, but Harry didn’t hear a word of it. His head was beginning to swim from lack of oxygen and his legs were starting to tremble. He considered trying to alert Snape that something was very much not right with him but thought better of it. 

Best not to give Snape any more material for his merciless mocking.

Just as Harry thought he might pass out or keel over from the intensity of his panic attack they finally, blessedly, stopped walking. They were in the entrance hall now and Harry looked longingly towards Gryffindor tower. For a moment he forgot himself and took a step towards the marble staircase before a harsh laugh from Snape cut him short. 

“I think not. All students are required to attend the Welcome Feast.” Snape glared at him. 

Harry shot him a scathing look as he herded Harry towards the great hall. 

“Your grand entrance awaits you.” Snape sneered. 

Harry elected to ignore that last jab and pushed through to the doors with the air of someone tackling an unpleasant task. He set his sights on the Gryffindor table and walked purposefully towards it. He noticed a flash of red and looked to see Ron and Hermione waving him over. He angled in their direction, counting breaths in his head. 

Inhale for 5 counts, hold for three counts, exhale for 5 counts. 

Repeat. 

Repeat until you can breathe.

Repeat until you aren't losing your grip on reality. 

Repeat until everything is ok.

Repeat until you can think again. 

"Harry! There you are, we've been worried sick, what happened?" Hermione started in as soon as he sat down.

"You're covered in blood mate." Ron was staring pointedly at the dried blood on his chest.

“Come here, let me help.” Hermione bossed, pulling out her wand and waving it across his face and shirt. “Tergeo!” 

Harry couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact so he looked down instead. As he watched, his dried blood lifted from his skin and clothing and then vanished.

“Where have you been? How come you’re not in your robes?” Ron looked him over with a scowl before grabbing for more potatoes. 

Harry just looked at them mutely. He couldn't find the words to speak. Pain burned behind his eyes and his brain felt like it had just stuck a metal fork in a plug. Ron was too busy shoving food into his mouth, as usual, but he made prolonged eye contact with Hermione. He saw the intuition flash in her eyes when she understood what he was trying to say without words.

"Oh, Harry." She wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned her head against his in solidarity. "I've got you, you're safe."

Harry leaned into her gratefully, focusing on her warmth and the scent of her apple shampoo. She kept rubbing her hands up and down his arms and whispering soft reassurances. 

"It was Malfoy," He muttered darkly, pulling away from Hermione when he could breathe without it hurting "he stepped on my nose."

“I saw the git miming something to do with a nose earlier.” Ron hissed, shooting a glare across the hall to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was surrounded by his friends who were all laughing as he talked animatedly. 

Harry piled his plate high with food while he recounted the whole terrible tale. They both gasped in horror and hummed in sympathy in all of the right places, but Harry still felt unworthy and alone. He was even more disheartened to realize he no longer had an appetite. It was a shame, he had been looking forward to the Welcome Feast all day. With a resigned sigh, he started picking at the food on his plate, pushing it around with a fork. He felt Ron's eyes on him again and looked up. Weary green met blazing blue and Ron's expression softened. 

"You alright, mate?" He bent his head towards Harry's in an effort to not draw attention to them. 

"Yeah, fine. Just not hungry, I s'pose." Harry shrugged, breaking eye contact to grab at a pitcher of pumpkin juice. 

"Feed that shite to Trelawney, not me." Ron shook his head. "I wouldn't be bloody fine if I just faced off against Malfoy and Snape before the feast is even over."

"Just another day in the life of 'The Chosen One'." Harry said bitterly. He would trade it all just to be normal for once.  
***

Theo frowned when he noticed Draco’s preoccupation. 

Potter had finally arrived. 

Even Theo had to admit the normally deliciously disheveled Gryffindor looked wretched. What had it cost Draco to make him look like that? He reached out and squeezed his thigh reassuringly and Draco flashed him a grateful smile, joining in the conversation again with just a little too much enthusiasm. 

Theo hadn’t believed him for one instant when he said Potter didn’t matter anymore. While they were at the manor it was easy to pretend like he didn’t exist. Even on the train Draco had acted as if the git were utterly inconsequential and Theo had allowed himself to hope. The look on his boyfriend's face as he watched Potter walk across the great hall told him that it had all been an act. It cut deeper than he thought it would. 

It wasn’t Draco’s fault.

Of course it wasn’t. You can’t control who you fall in love with. Theo knew that better than anyone. He had fought against his feelings for Draco until the summer before their 4th year. Watching him lose it over the World Cup had sealed his fate. He was just so bloody adorable when he was excited about something. Unfortunately for both of them, pureblooded wizards were simply not allowed to be gay. The most important thing to their families is that they get married to a respectable pureblooded witch and produce a male heir to carry on the family name. 

What a load of shite.

Theo sighed and rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder as he recounted for the umpteenth time what had happened after the others had gotten off the train. He still marveled at the novelty of being able to touch Draco like this. His scent was intoxicating. Theo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing in the smell that was all Draco.

He smelled like midnight on a lazy summer night, and the eerie calm before it rained. He smelled of rich spices with just a hint of something sweet and Theo didn’t think he would ever tire of it. 

“Did you see the blood all over his face when he came in?” Blaise chortled as Daphne hit him.

“That’s disgusting!” She shrieked in laughter. 

The rest of their friends seemed to be content Potter bashing with Draco. Theo would have joined in if he thought Draco had meant a word of it. 

Pansy caught Theo’s eye and gave him a meaningful look before getting up and walking out into the entrance hall. 

Great. Time to go get yelled at. 

“I’ll be right back, love.” He gave Draco a quick kiss on the top of the head as he stood up.

Draco merely nodded in acknowledgment, gracing him with a twisted half-smile that made Theo’s poor heart stop in his chest for a full second. He trudged reluctantly out of the great hall in search of his most terrifying best friend.

"Oi, over here." A staged whisper caught his attention and he followed the sound. She was hiding in an alcove beneath the marble staircase. 

"What do you want, Pansy?" He groaned as he joined her. 

"Don’t think I didn’t see that.” She gave him a look that could only be described as exasperated pity. 

“See what?” He asked innocently.

“Don’t play dumb with me Nott, it doesn’t suit you.” She huffed in annoyance. “ How long?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He hedged. 

He had hoped he could avoid this conversation for the rest of his life.

“Sod off.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “How long have you been in love with Draco and why didn’t you bloody tell me?” 

“Ah, that.” Theo winced. She certainly wasn’t wasting any time on subtlety. “What gave me away? I had been so careful all summer.”

“So you loved him before this summer then?” Pansy smirked.

She could pump information out of a wall if she set her mind to it. Theo smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Do we have to do this?” He hissed.

“How would you feel if I was in love with someone and didn’t tell you?” She snipped.

“Are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She wrinkled her nose at him and he sighed.

“Fine. We will talk, but not here. Tomorrow, right after breakfast. Alright?” He asked desperately as he heard Dumbledore calling the rest of the great hall to attention. He was pretty sure Snape wouldn’t care if they missed the start of the term speech, but it was best to err on the side of caution. 

“Fine.” She narrowed her eyes at him and Theo resisted the urge to back away. She was dangerous when she looked like that. “Don’t think you can worm your way out of it tomorrow. You will either tell me everything or end up in the hospital wing. Understood?”

“You’re so bossy.” He made a face at her.

“Nott.” She said warningly, her eyes flashing.

“Yeah, yeah. Understood.” He grumbled, already walking back towards the great hall. 

Pansy Parkinson was going to be the death of him.  
***

“Snape is staring at you.” Pansy whispered into his ear.

Draco glanced up at the staff table to check. Pansy was right, as usual. When they made eye contact Snape nodded in the direction of the dungeons, immediately got up and swept from the great hall. Draco sighed and buried his face in his hands. 

The last thing he needed was his bloody godfather interfering. If he didn’t accomplish the task he had been assigned more than just his own life was at stake. He felt Theo wrap his arms around him protectively and Draco’s heartstrings twinged with unease. 

“You don’t have to follow him.” Theo muttered “What can he do to you? You don’t owe him anything”

“My mother would skin me alive if I just ignored him. That’s rude” Draco almost laughed. He welcomed the support, leaning his head against Theo’s for a moment. 

“Get a room.” Blaise laughed, tossing a piece of his toast at them.

“Sod off, Zabini.” They chorused together, earning a round of laughter.

“I need to talk to Theo anyway,” Pansy shot him a meaningful glare “so you might as well go see what Snape wants. Meet up with you in transfiguration?”

“I suppose.” Draco heaved a deep sigh before pushing back from the table. 

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at the Gryffindor table. It was a habit he had honed over the past 6 years and the muscle memory was killing him. He didn’t want to see Harry. To see his aggravatingly attractive bedhead or his sad green eyes. He just wanted to move on. That chapter of his life was over. He could never go back. 

Theo and Pansy stood up with him and the three of them walked through the hall together. It almost felt normal for a moment. Draco almost subconsciously made a mental note that Harry didn’t eat anything for breakfast. He pushed the useless worry down, gritting his teeth. Once they finally broke free of the irritating buzz of students enjoying their breakfast they immediately were accosted by a blur of yellow and black. Draco and Theo were knocked off balance, falling over with the Hufflepuff they had run into.

“Oi, watch it!” the unknown Hufflepuff hissed.

It took a moment to disentangle three pairs of legs and there was another round of angry hissing before the three boys could stand up again. Draco looked the puff over. He was in their year. 

“Watch where you’re going, Macmillan.” Draco snapped, rubbing a sore elbow.

“Me?!” The Hufflepuff was red in the face. “You’re the ones who ran into me!”

“Actually you ran into each other. None of you idiots were paying attention.” Pansy snipped impatiently. 

“Sod off Parkinson, this has nothing to do with you.” Macmillan shot at her.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” A horribly familiar voice rang out behind them and Draco froze.

“What’s it to you, Potter? Sticking up for snakes now, are we?” The Hufflepuff bristled.

“Her name is Pansy and she didn’t do anything wrong to you. Now leave her alone.” 

Harry’s voice sounded like velvet and Draco grudgingly turned to look at him. Theo slipped a possessive arm around his waist and Draco had to resist the urge to push him away. That would not go over well.

“She just-”

“I saw what happened. Malfoy and Nott ran into you, not Pansy. So leave her alone, yeah?” Harry sounded like the Hufflepuff was trying his patience and Draco stared openly at him. 

What the hell was he playing at? 

Theo, Pansy, and Macmillan were staring at him too, so Draco didn’t feel like he was cheating on his new resolution to stop looking at him.

“No offense Potter, but why do you care?” Pansy finally broke the awkward silence.

To everyone’s surprise, Harry laughed. Draco could hear the thinly veiled bitterness behind the mirth, but it only served to confuse him even more.

“Remember what you told me at the Yule ball? I figure it’s more important now than ever.” He shrugged.

Pansy was the only one who seemed to understand what that meant and she shot him a furtive smile. 

“Well, thanks then I suppose.” 

“Course.” Harry nodded curtly and took one step towards the front doors before the Hufflepuff reignited his ire.

“Had enough of being the hero already? Now you’re associating with Death Eaters?” the brunette hurled at Harry’s back. He immediately froze in place. Draco saw him take a few calming breaths before he whipped around and stalked back to Macmillan. 

“No, I’m defending a classmate who didn't do anything wrong.” Harry spat venomously and Draco had to take a moment to appreciate seeing Harry vent his anger at someone other than him for a change.

“Do we have a problem here?” A high-pitched tone grated on his ears and Draco groaned before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, Ernie here’s having a go at Pansy for no reason.” Harry greeted his friends, sounding for all the world like it was normal for him to be defending Slytherins. Well. A Slytherin.

“Potter is defending Death Eaters!” The Hufflepuff retorted, looking toward the new arrivals for help.

None came.

“Pansy Parkinson is no more a Death Eater than I am.” Harry smirked as if enjoying some private joke. 

Six jaws dropped at that statement and Harry rolled his eyes. 

“How could you possibly-” The Weasel started to ask but Harry nodded towards Pansy’s midsection. Draco blinked in confusion.

“She’s wearing short sleeves, Ron. Look at her left arm.” Harry only sounded mildly irritated and Draco had to give him credit. He didn’t think he could ever have enough patience to be friends with the Weasel.

Harry’s words started to sink in and Draco felt the blood drain out of his face. There were only two marked Death Eaters in this castle. Pansy certainly was not one of them...but he was. Harry would never defend his honor like that. Not now that he had been tainted by the Dark Lord. He felt a sick twinge of jealousy towards Pansy before he was able to regain control over his emotions and shove his errant thoughts back into the farthest recesses of his mind.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Macmillan sneered “Guess now we know our supposed chosen one thinks with his prick instead of his head. Never pegged you for chasing evil skanks-”

“Godric, are you always this much of an arse?” The red-headed lemming snipped.

Draco had only moved a step before the Weasel’s fist beat him to the punch.

Literally.

The Hufflepuff instantly recoiled and held his nose, cussing each and every one of them out under his breath. He managed to get in a few colorful suggestions about Harry's taste in women before the Weasel punched him again. Draco was almost impressed. 

“Well that’s bugger for you, I don’t like girls. Guess that throws THAT idea out the window.” Harry said flatly. Granger and the Weasel snorted in laughter but Draco’s world came to a screeching halt.

Harry was gay?

“Stay away from me you bloody psychotic gits.” Blood was seeping out from between his fingers as he glared daggers at them before turning on the spot and sprinting off towards the infirmary. 

“No problem, you’re not my type!” Harry called as he and his cronies headed towards the open front doors.

“Oi, Weasley!” Pansy called after them.

“Yeah?” He turned around with a resigned expression. Harry and Granger stopped with him but they made no move to walk back towards the Slytherins.

“Thanks. For….. defending me.” Pansy grimaced as if her expression of gratitude pained her. It probably did.

“Don’t mention it.” The Weasel shrugged before slipping out onto the grounds with his friends.

A pregnant silence settled over them as they watched three Gryffindor robes fade into the grounds.

“Well that was…. unexpected.” Theo broke the stillness first, bringing the other two back to the present moment.

“Salazar, Snape’s going to murder me. I’ll catch you two up later.” Draco didn’t even wait for a response before fleeing to the dungeons. 

Harry bloody freaking Potter.

Would he ever stop haunting him?  
*** 

Pansy sighed impatiently as they circled around the lake. It was the ideal path for a private conversation, yet there was no conversation being made. 

“Alright Nott, spill it.” She growled.

“Did you see his face?” Theo asked softly, eyes on the dirt and grass strewn path in front of them. “When Potter said he was gay?”

“Merlin, help me.” Pansy pressed delicate fingers to her forehead, rubbing at the vein that always started throbbing when she was feeling overwhelmed. “He’s with you, Theo. Do you think he would have started going steady with you if he didn’t like you back at least a little bit?”

“But the way he looks at him- Pansy, we've been together for 3 months and he never looks at me like that.” Theo’s bottom lip trembled for only a second but Pansy caught it. 

She stopped walking abruptly and grabbed his wrist, pulling him around to face her. 

“You will listen to me, Theodore Nott, and you will listen well. Sod Potter. It doesn’t matter if he’s a damn Veela, Draco is never going to be with him. We’re on opposing sides of a war. So what if he still burns a small flame for the prat? He’s dating you." Why was everything so much more complicated this year? Theo didn't respond, choosing to stare out at the lake in silence instead.

Pansy sighed and tried again, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"You are a bloody catch and he’s not an idiot. Daft, maybe, but he knows you’re better for him. When is the last time you’ve seen Draco do anything he didn’t want to do while here? If he didn’t want to be with you, he would have dumped you before summer was over.” She stared unblinkingly into his liquid honey eyes, trying to force him to believe her. If Draco didn’t see it that way right now, he would by the end of the day. She wouldn’t let him break Theo’s heart over some sodding Gryffindor who wouldn’t even give him the time of day. 

“I want to believe that.” He whispered. “I want to so badly, but you saw his face. If Potter ever-”

“He won’t. You can read people almost as well as I can. Do you ever see Potter even sparing him a second thought? You heard him back there, he only defended me because I’m not a Death Eater. Draco is marked, Theo. They are never getting together.”

Theo looked at her with a tortured expression.

“I’m in love with him, Pans.” Theo choked with unshed tears shining in his eyes.

“Oh, Theo.” Pansy squeaked as a lump formed in her throat. She forcibly pulled him into a bone-crushing hug and he melted into her. Why did both of the idiots she cared about most in this world have to fall for the one person they couldn’t truly have? It wasn’t fair.

Her own idiotic crush flashed through her mind and she almost went to drown herself right then and there in the lake. Salazar, how embarrassing. All three of them then. They all had truly dreadful taste in men.  
*** 

The sound of pencil scratching on paper filled Draco’s empty dorm room. Everyone else was down enjoying the Halloween feast. It was the perfect opportunity to get some drawing done. He frowned at the half-formed lines critically. Why was Granger’s hair so hard to emulate? He swore at the sketchbook, erasing the offending lines with vigor. He normally didn’t include Granger in his drawings and now he was starting to see why. 

Draco closed his eyes and pulled up the mental snapshot he had taken earlier at lunch. Bugger. The scene wasn’t complete without Granger’s laughing face. He sighed, grabbed a different pencil, and started again. Start with the face. He could agonize over her hair later. He focused on her expression now; the crinkle of her nose and the way her head was tilted back in laughter. It was a difficult angle, but he relished in the challenge. 

This was the kind of challenge he enjoyed. His expression turned dark as his thoughts strayed to his biggest challenge. It was proving impossible to fix that bloody vanishing cabinet. The pressure of keeping his parents alive was overwhelming. He had to get the cabinet fixed and he had to kill Dumbledore. He didn’t want to think of the unspeakable horrors the Dark Lord would unleash if he didn’t succeed. 

His hand started to tremble and he forced himself to push those dark thoughts away. He was powerless to change it. There was no use crying over spilled potion. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself of. He took some deep, calming breaths as he gazed at the rough sketch in front of him. 

This was his sanity. Drawing was how he kept a tentative grip on who he really is.

It was the only part of him that the Dark Lord couldn’t take away or control. 

His hand jumped across the page as he abandoned Granger and started drawing his favorite subject. Harry was easy. Draco could probably draw him in his sleep. He smiled faintly at the thought as he sketched Harry’s heart-stopping smile. He was never more alluring than when he was laughing with his friends.


	7. In which Hermione gets scolded by Ron and Draco gets annoyed with a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixth year has passed in a blur. So much has happened. Fear has become a constant companion for our two boys. Will their friends (and boyfriends) be enough to stop their spiral downwards? Only time will tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! Two very important relationships develop in this chapter and we get to see Draco's version of his and Harry's wand fight in the bathroom. I greatly enjoyed writing this chapter, I hope you all like it! HUGE Shout out to my DARLING beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark! This entire fanfic would not be possible without their dedication and loving bullying.  
> Happy reading!

Pansy sighed as she slipped yet another useless book back onto the shelf. How was a girl supposed to learn the secrets of nonverbal magic if none of the books in this damned school did more than mention it in passing? She was the only sixth year Slytherin to not have mastered it yet. 

Well. Besides Greg and Vince. Which was at least something, she supposed. There was also a handful of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that were still struggling with it, but she was a Slytherin! Clever was practically her middle name. She should have nonverbal magic down by now. 

She wandered down the next aisle, prepared to give up when hushed voices caught her attention. 

“I can’t tell you that, Hermione.” a deep voice that sounded rather exasperated floated over to her from the other side of the shelves.

She couldn’t be sure based on that sentence alone, but she thought it might be Potter’s voice.

“Why not? Do you honestly think I’d laugh at you?” Granger sounded affronted. 

“It’s not that.” Definitely Potter.

“Then what is it?”

“They don’t want anyone to know. They asked me to keep it a secret.” Potter said evasively.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Granger heaved a frustrated sigh. Pansy could definitely empathize.

“Please, ‘Mione. I don’t have anyone else I can talk to about this.”

“Let me get this straight, you want my help.”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t tell me who you’re dating?”

“Yes.”

“Why, are they embarrassed by you?”

“No, they’re not embarrassed. They just haven’t come out yet and they’re waiting for the right time.” He sounded somewhat defensive and Pansy rolled her eyes.

“There’s never going to be a ‘right time’.” She huffed.

“I know that. They just...need more time.”

“Alright, fine. What seems to be the problem?” Granger’s tone was long-suffering.

Pansy knew she shouldn’t still be here, eavesdropping on what was clearly a private conversation, but she couldn’t help herself. Not only was the information totally juicy, but now she was genuinely curious.

“You and Krum are still doing long-distance, right?”

“Yes, Victor and I are.” She sighed.

“How do you...manage? They don’t go here anymore and I’m finding this long-distance thing a little challenging.” Potter sounded embarrassed now.

“Oh, Harry. It’s hard, but the right person is worth it. Victor and I constantly write letters and we visit each other on breaks. I spent this Christmas with him in Bulgaria, and this Easter he will be coming out to stay with me. My parents adore him.”

“Alright, we write letters all the time too, but how do you deal with him not being there for you when you need him? How do you cope with missing him so much it physically hurts?” Potter sounded so hurt and desperate even Pansy felt sorry for him.

“I don’t, really." She said matter of factly. "That’s just part of being in a long-distance relationship, I’m afraid. Whenever I start missing him too much I write him a letter. That’s the best we can do. In the meantime, I have you and Ron to help me feel less lonely. You can lean on us, you know that right?”

“Of course I do.” Potter snorted.

“I mean it, Harry. You don’t have to face any of this alone. I am always here for you. No matter what. Alright?” The sincerity in Granger’s voice tugged at Pansy’s heartstrings. It sounded like she cared for Potter just as much as she cared about Draco.

“Yeah, alright. Thanks.” Potter sounded uncomfortable all a sudden and Pansy frowned.

“Let me guess, you suddenly have to go?” Granger sounded resigned, like this type of reaction to her offered support was normal.

“Erm, actually yeah. I should try to talk to Slughorn…” Pansy could hear shuffling and the zipping of a book bag.

“Good luck!” Granger’s voice was a little louder.

Potter must have beat a hasty retreat. Before she could stop herself Pansy was rounding the corner and dumping her own book bag onto Granger’s table.

“Well, that was rude.” She said in way of greeting, pulling out the closest chair, and sitting down.

“That’s just Harry.” Granger looked shocked, but she took it in stride. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” Pansy shrugged unabashed. “I wasn’t trying to overhear, I was just looking for a book on nonverbal magic and this sodding library doesn’t have a single one that can help.”

“Why do you need a book on nonverbal magic?” 

“Nevermind that, you’re still dating Victor Krum?”

“What’s it to you? Curious how I’m still managing to slip him a love potion from over two thousand miles away?” She sniffed.

“I’m sorry about that.” Pansy winced. “I never actually thought you were using love potions.”

“Why did you tell Rita Skeeter that I was, then?” Granger challenged and Pansy sighed.

“My mother is the editor in chief of Witch Weekly and she told me to cooperate with Skeeter and give her whatever juicy story Skeeter thought would sell. It wasn’t personal, it was just good business.”

“Good business is bashing someone you hardly know and casting unfair aspersions on their character?” Granger said coldly. 

Pansy couldn’t blame her.

“Unfortunately, in the media world, it is. I don’t buy into any of that anymore, though. It was very wrong to have lied about you….and Potter to Skeeter and I truly am sorry. I wasn’t trying to- I just….” Pansy took a deep breath. She hadn’t intended on making amends with Granger, but now that it was happening she wanted to do it right. “There is no excuse for the way I treated you. All I can do is apologize.” 

If she had looked shocked earlier, it was nothing compared to how flabbergasted Granger was now. She was staring at Pansy with her jaw hanging open, apparently at a loss for words.

“If it helps, I never thought you were ugly, either. I suppose I was just jealous.” She added hopefully. It worked. 

“Thank you.” Granger smiled and her posture relaxed. “Though I don’t know what you have to be jealous of, you’re pretty and clever. That’s a deadly combination.” 

“You’re pretty and clever too.” Pansy blushed. “I’m honestly surprised you weren’t sorted into Slytherin with a brain like yours and your survival instinct.”

“Are you joking?” Granger gave her a calculating look.

“No, why would I be?”

“I’m a muggleborn. I don’t think Slytherin was ever an option for me.”

“That’s all a load of shite.” Pansy waved her hand dismissively. “There have been muggleborn Slytherins before. They’re rare, and I don’t think we’ve had one in over a century, but it does happen.”

“Really?” Granger arched her brow. “Wasn’t Salazar Slytherin a blood purist though?”

“He wasn’t, actually. He was a magic purist. He believed in keeping the magic in his house strong. Purebloods just usually have the strongest magic because it runs through their veins like blood.”

“What do you mean by strong magic?” Granger’s face was alight with curiosity. 

“You mean you don’t know?” It was Pansy’s turn to be astonished. “Haven’t you ever wondered why you can learn new spells faster than most people?”

“Enlighten me.” She sat back and spread her arms in invitation.

“It’s ...complicated.” Pansy hedged.

“I think I can keep up.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you can. I just have Herbology in twenty minutes and there simply isn’t enough time.” Pansy sighed dramatically.

“We could meet up afterwards?” Granger sounded uncertain and Pansy was struck with a brilliant idea.

“Why don’t we start meeting up once a week? I can teach you about the complex intricacies of magic and you can teach me the sodding secret to mastering nonverbal spells.” She leaned forward conspiratorially.

“I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.” Granger mirrored her and they shared a smile.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”  
***

“Potions should be nearly empty this afternoon with most of our class taking their apparition tests. It might be a good time to soften Slughorn up.” Hermione suggested hopefully.

“Yeah, right. One hundred and eleventh time is lucky, you think?” Harry was laughing, but the mirth never quite reached his eyes. 

To anyone who didn't pay such close attention to him, it would be unnoticeable. Hermione frowned but didn’t say anything. He had gone to bat for them with Dumbledore. Now they knew everything Harry knew regarding he-who….Regarding Voldemort. He had even done a somewhat eloquent job of telling her off for hating 'the half-blood prince'.

But he still wasn't completely her Harry, either.

Professor Dumbledore had been teaching him about Voldemort’s past, and now he needed Harry to get a memory from Professor Slughorn before they could continue on any further. Harry had been trying for months and still hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“That’s it! You just need to get lucky, Harry!” Ron’s face glowed with excitement of having figured something out.

“Look, I appreciate it mate, but you’re not really my type.” Harry shot Ron an amused grin.

“What? Ugh- No!” Ron made a face when he realized what Harry was saying and she had to stifle her giggle. “I meant Felix! Use your luck potion to get the memory!” 

“Use Felix to get the memory?” Harry looked at him dubiously.

“I think Ron is right, Harry! Oh, why didn’t I think of it? You should take some of your Felix Felicis. Maybe all you need really is a bit of luck!” She crowed.

“Oh, erm… I was sort of… saving it.” Harry suddenly broke eye contact with both of them and Hermione frowned. 

“What could possibly be more important than this memory, Harry? Dumbledore said-”

“Yeah, I know what Dumbledore said.” Harry nearly growled. He took a deep breath and then looked back at her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean that. You’re right, of course.”

Hermione didn’t buy it.

Ever since the dementors had swarmed the black lake in third year, nearly killing him and Sirius, Harry had started withdrawing more and more into himself. Hermione was worried. A small part of her feared that Harry would never get better. He was much too young to have so much responsibility thrust upon his shoulders.

He had exchanged a few more words with Ron while she was pondering the implications of his rapid mood shifts. He was already halfway up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory before she even registered that he had moved. 

“Are you as worried about him as I am?” She looked over at Ron.

“Yeah.” He agreed quietly, eyes still on the now-empty staircase. “I reckon he’s slowly losing his shite.”

“We need to help him.” Her heart broke a little at the thought of what Harry must be feeling.

“Just leave him alone, he obviously doesn't want to talk about it.” Ron shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“There has to be some way we can-”

“He doesn’t want help, ‘Mione. If he did he’d ask for it.” Ron shook his head.

“How can you say that, Ron? Harry is suffering! He needs-”

“He needs space.” Ron cut her off and she blinked rapidly. 

Ron had never taken that tone with her. Not even when he thought Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers. 

“You can see it in his eyes, he’s in so much pain, all the time…” Hermione pleaded softly, wiping at her own traitorous tears before they started flowing in earnest. She couldn’t afford to cry right now.

“He isn’t ready for help yet though. Charlie went through something like this before he discovered dragon taming. We can’t fix this for him, no matter how much you might want to. We have to wait for him to want to fix it himself. If he doesn’t do it of his own free will, we will only be making it worse. All we can do is be there for him. Just...trust me on this one.” Ron’s brow was furrowed in concern and Hermione was brought up short. 

What could she possibly say to that? When did Ron, of all people, become so wise?

Harry thundering back down the stairs saved her from having to think of an appropriate response. After one last meaningful glance at one another, they turned to face him.

“Got the liquid luck?” Ron grinned, showing no signs of their earlier conversation.

“Got it. A mouthful should be plenty, yeah? I don’t need the whole twenty-four hours.” Harry was peering at the small vial of golden potion curiously. 

“A mouthful sounds perfect, Harry. You’re going to succeed this time, I just know it.” She smiled weakly at him. He didn’t seem to notice her lackluster response and she was somewhat relieved. 

Harry still looked undecided.

“Right, so why don’t I try one last time on my own. If I don’t get it in class today, I can take a mouthful of Felix and try again this evening.” He finally nodded, placing the potion vial in his front pocket.

“It’s decided then. One way or another, you’re getting that memory today.” Hermione said briskly to disguise the concern in her voice.

“Come on, we better get going.” Ron grimaced. “Don’t want to miss the test because we’re late.”

“Good luck then, both of you.” Harry said bracingly as they all stood together and headed towards the portrait hole. 

“You too, mate.” Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” 

“Destination...determination...deliberation.” Hermione murmured, performing a graceful pirouette.

“Oi, stop that!” Ron begged her “I’m sick enough as it is…”

Harry snorted in laughter before they split up outside in the hall. Hermione watched him trudge off in the direction of the dungeons wistfully. She was adamantly resolved to do some research into mental health. 

There had to be some way to help him.  
***

A ghastly, insipid face looked hauntingly back at him with dull and empty eyes. 

He was a failure. 

Draco clutched at the edges of the sink for support. 

He felt like throwing up.

He felt like crying until he drowned in his own tears. 

He felt… everything.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see the faces of every student whose families had been attacked by Death Eaters. His nausea swelled as he thought ‘my fellow Death Eaters’. He spun around and dashed for the nearest stall.

All year he had to listen to the whispers of violence. Important witches and wizards were disappearing almost constantly. Family members were being kidnapped and tortured, held for ransom to coerce others into joining the Dark Lord. 

Pictures from all of the Daily Prophets depicting the cagey disappearances and gruesome deaths flashed through his mind as if they were on a film reel. Each new face brought up another round of self-loathing as he emptied what lunch he had managed to choke down into the porcelain bowl. It seems he couldn’t hold much of anything down these days.

“There, there. Go on and get it all out.” A familiar shrill voice echoed through the bathroom and Draco bit back an aggravated sigh. He had come up to the sixth floor to steer clear of anyone- or anything. Including ghosts.

“I can’t do this, Myrtle.” He moaned, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before standing up and heading back to the sink. 

“Oh, but you’ve got to.” The ghost pouted. “You can’t very well let him kill your parents, can you?”

“Why can’t he just kill me? Leave my parents alone.” Draco rinsed the bile from his mouth. “I’d welcome death, at this point.”

Something snapped inside of him as the last word left his mouth and the tears that he had been fighting for so long started spilling over. It wasn’t long before sobs were racking his form and Myrtle floated closer. 

“Oh, you sweet boy…” she gushed, patting his back.

Draco really wished she wouldn’t. He was miserable enough without his spine feeling like someone had cast a freezing charm on it.

“Just leave me be… I don’t want any company right now.” He whimpered, letting his head droop as his heart constricted. The squeezing sensation spread to his lungs and Draco struggled to breathe.

“You don’t have to-” Myrtle started.

“Please!” Draco gasped in between breaths. “Just go!” 

Draco swatted wildly behind him, trying to force her to go. She retreated back into the cubicle she had found him in, but she didn’t leave. 

“Don’t,” she crooned softly “don’t do this, tell me what went wrong, let me help you.” 

“No one can help me.” He said forlornly, drawing in ragged breaths as he fought off a debilitating panic attack. “I can’t do it...I can’t. It isn’t going to work! If I don’t succeed soon he’s going to kill them! Merlin, I….”

He lifted his head wearily, checking the reflection in the mirror to make sure Myrtle was keeping her distance. His heart froze then kicked into overtime. 

Harry bloody Potter was cowering behind the bathroom door, spying on his mental breakdown. The second to last person he ever wanted to see him wallowing in weakness. 

Humiliation.

Anger.

Rage.

His veins burned with indignation and white-hot fury consumed him from the inside out. He drew his wand and spun around. 

Harry mirrored his movements.

Draco shot off the first hex that popped into his mind then swore as the lamp by the door shattered. It was a testament to his mental state that he missed at such a short-range. He quickly threw up a shield charm to cover his mistake. Harry’s curse ricocheted, cracking the mirror behind him. Draco raised his wand once more.

“No! No, no- you stop this! You stop it this instant! STOP!” Myrtle screamed, splashing water all over the floors in her agitation. 

Neither boy paid her any mind.

Harry dodged his second hex and sent one right back. Draco sidestepped a jelly-legs jinx, flicking a stunning spell at him as quickly as he dared. The tiles around Harry exploded like confetti and Draco dove out of the way of his retaliating curse. It bounced off the wall and went straight for Myrtle. 

Draco was livid. Who did he think he was? Tracking him down and spying on him, then having the audacity to shoot curses at him? 

Draco moved as if in a dream. Everything slowed down and Draco could see dozens of things at once. Myrtle was still screaming, thrashing inside the toilet and sloshing water all over. The walls were cracked, light fixtures were sparking and the door was buckled outwards. Debris and broken plaster littered the floor and Harry’s face was contorted with rage. He deflected Harry’s next hex angrily, denting one of the cubicle doors. He didn’t stop to consider the consequences of his actions. He felt hurt, humiliated, and positively murderous.

“Cruci-”

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” Harry bellowed.

Gut-wrenching pain lacerated Draco’s face and chest and he stumbled backward from the impact. His foot slipped on something wet and he fell. He could feel hot blood flowing down his face and into his mouth, choking him.

Searing, unbearable pain.

The edges of his vision started to cloud and he almost wanted to laugh.

What a blessed relief. 

It was over. He didn’t have to worry about being killed by the Dark Lord after all. 

It was almost poetic to be killed by Harry instead. He supposed if he had to pick whose hand he died by, it would have been his. 

He could hear loud screaming and multiple voices just as darkness overtook him and everything faded to black.

He was treading water, but there was no light.

There was nothing around him besides the endless void, but he couldn’t stop swimming. He knew if he stopped, he was done for.

He didn’t even know which way was up, but he fought against the current, struggling to break free. Time was meaningless. Each second lasted a lifetime. The next thing he knew for certain was real was the sound of quiet voices. 

Was this it? Was this the afterlife?

Draco groaned as he became aware of throbbing pain in his chest. Dying shouldn’t be so painful. 

“He’s waking up!” a deep voice thick with worry reached his ears. It sounded familiar, somehow. 

Too familiar.

He tried to open his eyes but his eyelids refused to cooperate.

“Theo?” He croaked, then cleared his throat.

“I’m right here, baby.” The voice was closer this time, and definitely Theo’s.

Draco felt his hand being picked up and cradled between two much warmer ones. His eyelids were heavy but he was finally able to force them open. Nondescript white ceiling tiles were the first thing he saw. He turned his head and the rest of the room came into focus.

His heart sank as he realized he was still alive, laying in the hospital wing with his godfather, best friend, and boyfriend all crowded around his bed. He blinked at them before trying to sit up.

“No, baby. It’s ok, just lay down. You’re pretty bad off.” Theo sounded like he was about to cry and Draco focused on him. 

“Theo.” He breathed, pulling his hand out of Theo’s vice grip. Before he could protest Draco reached out to cradle his face instead. Theo leaned into the touch, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“We were all so worried about you.” his voice cracked on the last word and Draco rubbed his thumb over Theo’s cheekbone in a soothing repetitive motion. Silver eyes met gold and suddenly Theo was outright crying. Draco patted the bed next to him and Theo climbed in gingerly, careful to avoid jostling him. 

“How long was I out?” He asked, glancing over at Pansy and Severus.

“You were out a whole week, you sodding idiot-” 

“Enough, Miss Parkinson.” Severus cut her off. “How do you feel?”

“Like I should be dead.” He said flatly, wrapping his arms around Theo’s shoulders. “What happened to Potter?”

“Unjustly punished.” Severus sneered.

“I’m going to kill him.” Draco spat venomously.

“There will be time for that later, now you need to rest. I will leave these two with you, but be warned; I will be back in twenty minutes' time to collect them and have Poppy administer you a strong dose of dreamless sleep. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” Draco swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant he was actually going to kill Harry. Surely Severus was only joking…

“Twenty minutes.” Severus reiterated before ducking out of his curtained bubble of privacy. 

Draco saw Pansy trying to catch Theo’s eye and he looked at her quizzically. He felt rather than saw when Theo made eye contact. Pansy gave him a meaningful look and arched an eyebrow as Theo nodded curtly. 

Draco narrowed his eyes at Pansy. When she noticed she shot him a quick wink and a look that said “later” with no room for an argument. 

“What have I missed?” He asked cooly instead.

“What haven’t you missed?” Pansy snorted.  
***

Bright sunlight graced the highstreets of Hogsmead. Winter was finally over and spring was in full swing. Harry didn’t take the time to admire the glittering shop windows or enticing smells of food. He was on a mission. 

He needed to see them.

Especially after what had happened last week.

“Where are you going?” Ron called after him. He was already halfway down the lane that led to the shrieking shack before he turned back to wave at them.

“I’ve got something I need to do! Meet you at the three broomsticks in a couple of hours!” Harry called before taking off. 

Now was not the time for everyone to find out his best-kept secret. 

Secrets? 

It didn’t matter. 

He picked up his pace. His whole body was aching for this. He needed it so badly it physically hurt. At long last, the dilapidated house came into view. Who knew such an eyesore would bring him such relief? Harry pushed past the fence and all of the ‘Warning’ and ‘Keep Out’ signs, heading for the east wall. There was a bit of wall that had caved in, allowing access to only the bravest of souls. 

Of course, Harry knew the real story. What the locals mistook for the screams and wailings of a violent ghost were actually a young boy transforming into a Werewolf every month. 

The sound of soft voices caused his heart to hammer in his chest and he sped up. When he finally found his way into what might have been considered the living room of the shack he could feel himself noticeably relax.

“Oi, there he is!” Fred beamed, extending his bottle of butterbeer towards him in a mock salute before polishing it off.

“About time you got here.” George shot him a cheeky grin. 

“Got held up by your favorite brother.” Harry could feel his worries floating away as the first genuine smile he’d had in ages crept slowly across his cheeks. “Unless you’ve changed your minds about keeping this a secret, I figured you wouldn’t mind my being a little late.”

“Ah, ickle Ronniekins. You have my sympathies.” George grimaced as Harry settled on the threadbare couch between them. 

“What have we got today?” Harry asked eagerly as Fred pulled him closer, intent on a proper greeting. When he turned his head to look at him Fred’s lips were on his, capturing them in a searing kiss.

“We figured your favorite things-” Fed started after giving him one more quick peck.

“Would cheer you right up after the bloody week you’ve had-” George chimed, reaching behind the couch and pulling out a white bag that sent a mouthwatering aroma wafting in Harry’s direction.

“So we brought you some Tai takeaway-” Fred started unpacking the food while George continued to pull more items out.

“And some butterbeer-” George cracked one open and handed it to him.

“And,” Fred flashed him a wicked grin “your favorite album.”

With a lazy flick of his wand, George set the music playing. Tears of happiness pricked at his eyes as the opening strains of Once by Pearl Jam filled the room. 

“You two did all of this for me?” Harry laughed weakly.

He was awed by how much effort they went through to pull this little date together.

“Course we did.” George gave him a sharp look.

“Can’t have our boyfriend going around being miserable all the time.” Fred agreed.

In lieu of a ‘thank you’ Harry grabbed George and kissed him hard on the mouth. George’s hands immediately sought out his face, holding him there to make the kiss last longer. Harry didn’t mind. It made him feel desired. 

When George finally released him he threw himself at Fred with reckless abandon, almost knocking the food off of the battered three-legged coffee table in front of them. Fred instantly threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair, tugging gently. Harry couldn’t stop the whimper that elicited and Fred smiled against the kiss.

“Miss us much?” George’s deep voice sounded in his ear, causing heat to spread from where his hot breath had tickled his neck. 

“You’ve no idea.” He moaned. 

No sooner had the goosebumps risen on his skin, George was pressed behind him, trailing kisses up and down his neck as Fred plundered his mouth. The sensation was almost overwhelming. Harry couldn’t get enough. All too soon, they pulled away at the same time. 

“Now, let us eat before we need to cast yet another warming charm.” Fred winked, pushing Harry and George back towards their own cushions. 

“Drunken Noodles, medium with Tom Kah for our chosen one.” George winked at him as he handed Harry his dish. The smell alone was mouth-watering. “Pad see ew for the less handsome twin, and Khao soi for the dashingly handsome one.”

“Oi, I’m the dashing one.” Fred griped good-naturedly as he took his food from George.

“You wish.” George laughed.

“I think you’re both dashing.” Harry grinned.

“You would.” Fred sniffed.

“You’re biased.” George winked. “Can’t trust the judgment of someone who couldn’t choose between us.”

“You never asked me to!” Harry quipped, failing to hide his own wicked grin. "In fact, you never asked me at all."

“Ah, bless. I remember the day we got together.” Fred grinned nostalgically. 

“Don’t you mean the day you two decided I was your boyfriend and didn’t leave me much choice in the matter?” Harry chuckled fondly at the memory. 

“You could have said no.” George shrugged, breaking his chopsticks apart and digging into his food with unbridled enthusiasm. 

“We honestly expected you to,” Fred agreed “you hadn’t given any prior indication that you were even slightly bent.”

“You mean you didn’t know? And you just decided I was your boyfriend anyway?” Harry was incredulous. 

“It worked out in the end.” Fred waved his hand dismissively. 

“I suppose it did.” Harry laughed.

They settled into a comfortable banter while they ate, poking fun at each other and reminiscing about their relationship over the past year. By unspoken agreement, no one brought up Draco Malfoy or Harry's recent excursion into dark magic. George and Fred always seemed to know exactly what he needed. He did tell them that he had made exciting progress in his lesions with Dumbledore, but he couldn’t tell them what. They didn’t mind. They were just glad he was making progress on something that was important to him. Sitting in this abandoned building with his boyfriends, joking, and talking about mundane things- it almost felt normal. 

“This is nice. I really miss you when you’re not around.” Harry frowned slightly as they collectively cleaned up, leaving no trace of their presence in the shack. 

“Yeah.” Fred nodded, then cast a quick Tempus charm. “You tell ickle Ronniekins when you were going to be back?”

“I said I’d meet them up in the Three Broomsticks in a couple of hours. Why, is it that time already?” Harry frowned.

“Unfortunately.” Fred grimaced.

Panic prickled at the back of his skull and suddenly Harry didn’t want to let them go anywhere. As soon as they left it would be back to swinging endlessly between pain and apathy.

“Another hour?” He asked pleadingly. 

He didn’t want to go back to his friends and pretend to be fine. He didn’t want to return to reality. He just wanted to stay in this small bubble of theirs forever. His head and his heart didn’t seem to hurt as much when Fred and George were there.

“I wish we could.” George pulled him into his arms and Fred wrapped his arms around the both of them. There, in between them, being hugged like he mattered…. Harry almost felt whole.

“We gotta get back to the shop.” Fred said sadly, kissing Harry on the top of the head. 

“Please… I feel so... empty without you…” Harry’s voice was weak but they both still heard him. 

“Ah, shite Harry…” Fred swore. 

Both twins tightened their arms around him and Harry tried to memorize the feeling.

“You make it impossible to leave.” George sighed, tilting Harry’s chin up and rewarding him with a long, sweet kiss. “But we really do need to get back to Diagon Alley.”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry nodded, desperately shoving his disappointment down.

“We’ll send off a letter tonight, yeah?” Fred forced him to meet his gaze before pulling him into a fierce kiss that made Harry’s skin burn. 

“Yeah.” He nodded as the hollow feeling invaded once more. With a loud crack, the two reasons he ever felt ok were gone.


	8. In Which We Witness a Series of Unfortunate Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco can't seem to come to grips with being a Death Eater. Just when he thinks things might calm down now that Dumbledore is dead something happens that triggers an unhealthy response in him that will change Theo's life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I lied in the last chapter. These scenes pretty much wrote themselves tho. Then quick flashes till we reach post-war will happen *next* chapter, I promise! As always, a HUGE thank you to my darling beta reader @AlexClio! If the end of the chapter makes you cry go after her! She told me to torture the cinnamon roll. And I delivered.  
> 

Pansy couldn’t breathe. Tonight was the night. Regardless of whether Draco fixed that bloody cabinet or not, Dumbeldore would die tonight. 

If Draco succeeded the castle would be crawling with Death Eaters. 

Death Eaters who would have zero qualms about killing any muggleborn that crossed their path. Unfortunately, Hermione always ended up in just the wrong place at just the wrong time. It was part of her Gryffindor charm; she was a danger magnet. 

Pansy wasn’t sure when she became Hermione instead of Granger but did it really matter? 

She had to find her.

She ran up the marble staircase without really seeing where she was going. Sodding Gryffindor, making her care about her and shite. If she had just stayed hidden after her clandestine eavesdropping three months ago she wouldn’t be having a panic attack about Hermione’s safety right now. 

Distracted as she was she almost bowled someone over on her way down the third-floor corridor.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She said automatically, reaching out to steady the person she had run into.

“That’s quite alright.” a very familiar voice huffed and Pansy’s heart started pounding in her chest. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“I was looking for you, actually.” She shot Hermione a tentative smile.

“Well, you found me. What’s up?” Hermione touched her elbow, pulling her off to the side where they had a small amount of privacy.

“I don’t have time to explain properly, but something is going to happen tonight.” Pansy pleaded with her eyes, “I need you to come with me.”

“I’m actually patrolling the corridors at Harry’s behest. He also feels like something bad is going to happen tonight.” Hermione frowned worriedly.

“That’s shockingly perceptive of him. It’s not a feeling, I know something bad is going to happen. Come on Hermione, I need to make sure you’re safe.” She grabbed her hand, trying to coax her down the stairs.

“Harry gave us all a mouthful of his Felix Felicis. I’ll be fine.” Hermione resisted.

“Us? Who is us?” Pansy pulled up short.

“Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, and myself. Harry and Professor Dumbledore are off on a mission.”

“I know. Draco told me. Well, I didn’t know about Potter, but that's beside the point. Please come with me, let me protect you.”

“What’s going on? Why does Draco know Dumbledore is off campus?” Hermione’s eyes were narrowed in curiosity but she didn’t look scared.

“Come with me and I will tell you everything, I promise.” Her violet eyes sought Hermione’s brilliant hazel. When she finally held her gaze Pansy pulled her most devastating expression.

It worked.

“Alright, but you have to tell me everything.” She sighed in defeat, allowing Pansy to pull her down the stairs and towards the Slytherin common rooms reluctantly.

‘I will, but not here.” She glanced around suspiciously, speeding up.

“Where are you taking me?” Hermione asked lightly, as if the answer didn’t really matter.

“My dorm.” Pansy said shortly, pulling her down a secret shortcut that dumped them out in the entrance hall. 

“Why?”

“That’s where you will be the safest.” She muttered distractedly, still resolutely refusing to let Hermione’s hand go as they descended the stairs into the dungeon.

“I’ll be safest surrounded by Slytherins?” Hermione challenged, her tone oddly serene and conversational.

“Yes. Shite! What about your friends? Can you warn them to get to safety from here?”

“I can.” She said carefully. “Any particular reason you don’t want us patrolling the corridors?”

“I’ll explain everything once we’re in my dorm.” Pansy said evasively as they came up on the blank stretch of wall and led to her common room. “Tutandi Diligaris.”

Hermione looked on with interest as the wall dissolved before them and Pansy pulled her through. There were shouts of surprise and cries of outrage about a Gryffindor being brought into their common room and Hermione looked uncomfortable. 

“Oi, I’ve heard enough from you lot! She’s here because I want her here. If any of you have a problem with it, I’ll duel you right here right now.” Pansy hissed.

The insults and jeers died down at once. Pansy was ever so grateful that she had a reputation for being volatile if she didn’t get her way. The younger students even scrambled out of their path as she towed Hermione over to the girls dormitory hallway. She only slowed down once they were safely in the corridor, coming to a stop in front of her dormitory door.

“I apologize for what you’re about to hear. I don’t like to let you see this side of me.” She sighed in warning before shoving the door open and stalking in. “Alright you useless twats, clear out. I need the dorm and you’re not invited to stay.”

“Oi, nice to see you too, Pansy.” Daphne rolled her eyes, rolling over lazily.

“Out.” 

“This is our dorm too, you can’t just kick us out.” Tracy scoffed, turning the page in her book with an unconcerned expression.

“I can and I am. Unless you want a hair removal potion mixed in with your sleek easy when you least expect it, I suggest you sod off.” 

“You wouldn’t!” Daphne sat up in horror.

“Try me.” Pansy arched an eyebrow at her friend.

“You’re such a bitch sometimes.” Tracy snapped, carefully marking her place before closing her book and standing up. “Come on, Daph. Let's leave Pansy to fondle her Gryffindor lover in peace.”

“Try not to get any of your lesbian love juices all over my bed, yeah?” Daphne sighed as she grabbed her book bag and sauntered towards the door. “Be careful with that one, she’s a bit obsessed with you.” she added as an aside to Hermione.

“Shut the fuck up!” Pansy shrieked, dropping Hermione’s hand like it was on fire.

“Please, it’s so obvious you’re in love with her even Potter must have noticed by now.” Tracy grinned wickedly as they made their way towards the door.

“OUT!” Pansy growled, slamming the door in their snickering faces. She could feel the blood boiling beneath her cheeks. Of course they would out her in front of Hermione. She did just threaten their precious hair, after all. She took a calming breath before turning back to Hermione who looked amused rather than angry. “Sorry about them. They don’t know when to shut up.”

“That’s quite alright.” Hermione said calmly and Pansy wished with all her heart she could become invisible. 

“I knew the threat to their hair care products would work. Daphne is so vain I’m surprised her head can fit in this tiny room without suffocating the rest of us. Tracy is almost as bad.” She rambled, curling up on her bed and looking anywhere but at Hermione. 

“Was there any truth to what they said?” Hermione asked softly, crawling up onto her bed next to her. 

“What? That I’m a bitch? Absolutely.” Pansy huffed, staring at her hands.

“That’s not what I meant.” Hermione said softly.

Pansy looked up to try and gauge her reaction. Her face gave nothing away, which was infuriating. They sat in silence for a long moment, facing each other with their legs tucked neatly underneath them before Pansy sighed.

“Alright, fine. Yes, there might be a little truth to it.” She mumbled, staring at her hands again. She picked at her chipping nail polish self consciously. “But it’s really not as bad as they made it out to be. I’m not obsessed-”

“Pansy, stop!” Hermione laughed. “I fancy you, too.”

“You do?” Pansy’s head jerked up so fast she cracked her neck, but she didn’t care.

“I didn’t entirely realize it at first, but yes. I do.” Hermione’s smile was dazzling.

“What about Krum?” Pansy hedged uncertainty.

“I think that’s why it took me so long to notice how much I care about you. I was so wrapped up in worrying about him and our long-distance relationship, but I haven’t been really happy with him in a while. You make me happy, though.”

“I do?”

“You do.” She shot her a cheeky smile and Pansy felt like her chest might burst. “Oh, but hold on, what about Draco?”

“Draco? What about him?” Pansy scrunched up her face in confusion.

“Isn’t he your...aren’t you two… together?” Hermione blushed.

“Oh! Merlin, no.” Pansy chuckled. “Draco’s gay.”

“Oh.” Hermione looked thoughtful. “That actually explains so much. How did I not see it? So that would mean that he and Theo are…?”

“Together, yeah.” Pansy grinned. 

She didn’t care if Draco and Theo both strung her up by her ears for outting them. Hermione liked her back. The whole world could burn around them and she wouldn’t care. 

“Interesting.” She narrowed her eyes. “Speaking of Draco…. Why did you drag me down to the Slytherin dorms again?”

Pansy sighed and launched into a long-winded explanation. She told Hermione everything she could without directly violating Draco’s trust. Much to her credit Hermione didn’t interrupt with questions once. She simply listened, nodding when she understood something or gasping when something shocked her. Pansy was rather glad she had switched her affections to this particular Gryffindor. She had a feeling Ron Weasley would not have been quite so calm if he were here instead of Hermione. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Hermione sighed when Pansy had finished her tale. “Harry was right, Draco has been up to something this whole time.”  
*** 

Draco sent a silent prayer up to whatever gods would listen as he performed the last charm over the vanishing cabinet. If it didn’t work by tonight his parents were as good as dead. 

The Dark Lord was not known for being merciful.

He opened the door and put the green apple he had brought with him inside. He closed the door and held his breath. An odd thumping reached his ears and Draco frowned. The cabinet had never made that sound before. He could only hope it meant something good. He held his breath before yanking the door back to reveal the apple. He was almost disappointed until he noticed the apple had a bite taken out of it.

He’d actually done it.

The vanishing cabinet was fixed.

He was filled with a mixture of relief at having succeeded and dread at what he had to do next. He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat and touched his dark mark, letting the Dark Lord know he had finally accomplished the first half of his task. 

Nothing left now but to wait.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur with a few glaring moments that stood out. 

Death eaters poured into the castle from the vanishing cabinet.

Members of Potter’s precious DA and Dumbledore’s blasted Order of the Phoenix ambushed them. An intense battle ensued.

He was on top of the astronomy tower with no real memory of having gotten there. Dumbledore was already there.

“Who else is up here? I heard voices.” He demanded after disarming him.

“A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?” Dumbledore said serenely. 

“I’m not alone.” Draco almost choked on his panic. How could the man be so calm? Surely he had realized what he was here to do. “There are Death Eaters in your school tonight.

“Well well,” Dumbeldore tutted as though Draco were showing him an ambitious homework project. “Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?”

Draco stared at him incredulously. Was he serious?

“Right under your nose.” He confirmed as nonchalantly as he could. 

“Ingenious,” Dumbledore smiled yet his expression was pained. “Forgive me . . . where are they now? You seem rather unsupported.” 

“They met some of your guards. They’re having a fight down below. They won’t be long. . . . I came on ahead. I — I’ve got a job to do.” Draco shook his head, trying to gather his resolve. 

“Well, then, you must get on with it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly. 

The silence that settled over them was deafening as Draco raised his wand. His hand was shaking and he couldn’t seem to draw in a steadying breath. 

He didn’t sign up for this. He didn’t want any of it.

“Draco…” Dumbledore gave him a measured look “Draco, you’re not a killer.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.” He hissed.

“Oh, but I do. You almost killed Katie Bell with a cursed necklace. You also nearly killed Ronald Weasley with a bottle of poisoned mead. You did not succeed.” Dumbledore still managed to give Draco the feeling he was being x rayed, even beneath the sickly green light of the dark mark. 

“They were never my intended targets.” Draco faltered slightly. His wand arm inched slowly downwards.

“I know who your intended target was, Draco. Those attempts on my life were sloppy. I was starting to believe you didn’t actually want me dead.” The ancient man sounded for all the world as if he was having a pleasant conversation with an old friend and it only made Draco’s anxiety skyrocket. 

“I don’t.” He whispered before he could stop himself. He grit his teeth, deciding to own it rather than cover it up. He would soon be dead so where was the harm in Dumbledore knowing the truth? “I don’t want to kill you. But I have to, or more people will die.”

“Is that what you really believe?” 

Screaming from below reached them and Draco stiffened, casting a quick glance behind him. The sounds of an all-out battle was echoing up the stairs. How many would die tonight?

“It sounds like someone is putting up quite the fight.” Dumbledore said calmly. 

Draco didn’t respond. He couldn't. He was frozen, staring unblinkingly at the shell of a man before him. He looked already injured and Draco idly wondered what had happened. 

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” suggested Dumbledore. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too. And after all, you don’t really need help. . . . I have no wand at the moment. . . . I cannot defend myself.” 

Draco just stared at the man. He was leaning against the wall as if clinging to it for support and Draco frowned. Did he want to die?

“Ah, I see. You are afraid to act until they join you?” Dumbledore’s voice gave no sign of weakness, confusing Draco even further.

“I’m not scared.” He snapped, raising his wand once more.”You should be though.”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. . . . So tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.” the maddening old prat said conversationally.

How could he stand here so calmly and discuss the intricate mechanics of his own death? Draco fought the now familiar wave of nausea he associated with being a Death Eater. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter’s heart. Then, as though he could not help himself, he said, “I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” 

“Aaaah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was terribly clever of you. There is a pair, I take it?”

Draco grudgingly detailed everything he had gone through this past year to get them to this point. The old fool was polite! Showering him with praise he did not deserve. What kind of man commends their murderer? Dumbledore’s attitude towards him was almost as sickening as having to kill him…

The sound of fighting was moving steadily closer and Draco cast another anxious glance behind them.

“You are running out of time, Draco.” Dumbledore leveled him with his gaze. “I think it is high time we discuss your options.”

“Options? I don’t have options!” Draco cried. “I’ve never had any bloody options. From the day I was sodding born I’ve never had a choice. Don’t you understand? He will kill them! He will torture and kill my parents. Probably kill me too if given the chance.”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” Dumbledore’s voice turned from overly cheerful to pleading. The change in tone made Draco grimace. “Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you. I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you, but now, at last, we can speak plainly to each other. . . . it is never too late. . . . I can help you, Draco.”

Christ, the senile old fool could talk. Draco was shaking his head before Dumbledore could even finish his speech.

“No, you can’t, nobody can.” His voice broke on the last word so he cleared his throat. “He told me to do it or he’ll kill my mother. I’ve got no choice.” 

“I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban. . . . When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, Draco . . . you are not a killer. . . .” 

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Order? Protect the Malfoys? He had to be joking. They would never accept them! He stared at Dumbledore. 

“You mean you don’t know?” Draco all but whispered. 

“There are many things I do not know” Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. “Pray tell, enlighten me.”

“You can’t save my mother. The Dark Lord...he has her under the Imperius curse. He never lets her out of his sight.” Draco wanted to break eye contact but the eerie blue held silver and he could not look away. An expression of dawning comprehension spread over the old man’s face and Draco wanted to punch it right off of him.

“Your father as well, then?” He asked sadly.

“At first.” Draco’s lip curled in disgust. “When he fell, my father was finally free...but being under the curse for so long had twisted his mind. He wasn’t the same.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond but was cut short by the arrival of the Death Eaters. His cohorts. Another familiar wave of nausea washed over him and he swallowed compulsively. They were all chattering excitedly, but Draco didn’t hear a word. That piercing gaze might have left his, but he was still rooted to the spot. 

He could see, hear, smell, and taste everything around him. He could hear the swish of fabric against fabric as the Death Eaters scurried to and fro. He could hear his heart beating in his chest and the blood pumping through his veins. He could smell the putrid stench of Fenrir Greyback. He could taste the air like it had been charged by lightning. Yet he still could not move, wand arm still pointing at Dumbledore’s heart. 

The stupid old bat was exchanging pleasantries with Death Eaters. Just as Dumbledore was expressing his shock that he had invited the wolf here amongst his friends he finally found his voice.

“I didn’t invite him. He wasn’t supposed to come.” He managed to choke out. He didn’t catch the response before a solid wall of panic hit him full force. His ears quit working. Everything sounded as if it were being filtered through an underwater tunnel and his vision pinned. He could only see Dumbledore. The wasted face looked resigned.

He seemed to be pleading with someone.

Without warning a flash of green light arced across the top of the tower and Draco watched in mute horror. The spell sank into Dumbledore’s chest and knocked him off the tower. Was it possible to be graceful in death?

If any being could accomplish it, it would have been Dumbledore.

Draco was vaguely aware of his godfather’s voice screaming at him to move. It wasn’t until someone grabbed his arm that he was released from this strange trance. He looked over and locked eyes with Severus. 

They needed to go. 

Now.


	9. In which Harry hunts horcruxes and Draco has a mental breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ministry has fallen. Hogwarts is being run by Death Eaters. Harry realizes something profound and Draco does what he can to help. How will this first year of open war end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! This chapter is a tad long, but it does cover A LOT of time so I figured you wouldn't mind! If you've stuck with me this long, thank you. If you're just joining in, welcome! This chapter is very fast-paced and you don't get a break from the feels at all, so strap in! It's going to be a bumpy ride.  
> As always, a HUGE thank you to my darling beta AlexClio and my dear beta SandZhark whom I have enjoyed making cry this chapter. SandZhark tells me I'm horrible and that I am literally the worst. 😈 If you want to kill me by the end of this chapter, get in line. Sand has first dibs!  
> Happy reading!

Harry stared in horror at six identical versions of himself. 

They could all die. 

They could die and it would be his fault. He wanted to run. He wanted to rant and rave and force them to turn back into themselves, but there was no point. If anyone got hurt….Harry didn’t think he would be able to live with himself.  
***

Draco angrily tossed the last sketchbook down on top of the others and drew his wand. There were about fifteen full books in total, most of them filled with drawings of Harry. 

He hated them. He never wanted to see them again. They were just a reminder of everything he had lost. Sod Harry. Sod Theo. 

“Incendio!” He blinked at the heat as the pile burst into flames. It was perfectly safe in the back acres of the Malfoy property. As long as he didn’t leave the fire unattended there was little to no risk of the fire spreading. 

In the dying twilight, the raging inferno that had once been his art burned brighter than the sun. He could not stave off the tears any longer. He broke down, falling to his knees and screaming his anguish to the skies.

He stared defeatedly into the dancing blaze, watching the fire curl the covers of his sketchbooks before consuming them entirely. That part of his life was over. He watched it burn for what felt like a century before the panic started to bubble up.

“Shite! What have I done?” He cried, rushing to pull as many books out of the firestorm as he could. He put out what was left burning and searched through the kindling for anything salvageable.

His art was all he had left of his old self. The version of himself that didn’t make him nauseous simply by existing.

In the end, he managed to save five of his sketchbooks and one partially burnt drawing of Harry laughing with his friends at the Gryffindor table. The Weasel and Granger got the brunt of the damage, leaving Harry’s perfect features untouched.

He set his salvage down and drew his knees to his chest. All of the Death Eaters were off to kill the only person he knew for sure that he loved. It was safe to fall apart. 

That’s exactly what he did.  
***

“Mad-eye is dead.”

Nobody spoke, no one even so much as moved. They were all huddled in the front garden at the Burrow, holding onto one another for support. The twins were inside, tending to George’s ear and Kingsley had left for Downing street not ten minutes previously. 

Who was going to break the news to them? 

Harry felt as though his heart had dropped right to the ground. His mind spun and he felt as if he were falling. Falling through the earth and sinking out of existence. 

“We saw it happen,” Bill said through unshed tears. “It happened just as we broke ranks. Voldemort went straight for them and Dung panicked. Disapparated straight off the broom, leaving Mad-eye to take the full brunt of Voldemort’s curse.” 

Bill’s cheeks shone in the dim light from the kitchen window. He shook his head, unable to go on. 

“Ze curse caught Mad-eye off guard and ‘ee… ‘ee fell backward off ‘is broom. Zer was no-zing we could do-” Fleur tried to be strong for her intended, but she broke down too.

“Of course you couldn’t do anything.” Lupin’s voice was thick with sorrow as he clapped Bill on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault, either of you. Got it?”

Bill and Fleur nodded but didn’t look convinced.

It was not their fault Mad-eye was dead. 

It was his.  
*** 

Draco paced restlessly in the Manor's gardens, no hint of his impromptu bonfire left on his immaculate robes. Extravagant flora of all forms rose up on either side of him but the beauty did nothing to assuage his fears. They should have been back by now. He cast yet another anxious glance at the sky and was rewarded with the sight of the return party flying over the wards.

He ran out to meet them. 

They were carrying someone in their midst and Draco almost choked on the ball of panic that had lodged itself in his throat. 

“Get him inside!” Severus’s voice rose above the din of chatter.

Draco followed the group wordlessly. The fallen Death Eater was still masked. Most of them were. There was no way to know if it was one of his parents or not until they got them inside.

“It was one of the bloody Potter look-alikes.” A masked Death Eater snarled. Draco was unfamiliar with the voice, but that didn’t mean much. The Dark Lord was continuously recruiting. It could have been anyone.

“Potter look-alikes?” He questioned no one in particular.

“There were seven of the bastards! We couldn’t tell which one was the real Potter! It was chaos.” Another mask answered. It sounded like Dolohov. Draco couldn’t be sure.

"Did he kill him?" He was proud that his voice didn't even tremble as he asked after Harry's fate.

"Couldn't tell in all the confusion." The nearest Death Eater shook their head. "But he took off in a rage from what I heard so my best guess is no."

Draco didn't respond. Knowing Harry was alive brought a small sense of comfort, but Harry was only part of his fears.

Once they were inside they carried their fallen comrade into the drawing-room and laid them on the couch. 

“I think they’re dead. They aren’t breathing.” Another disembodied voice rang out.

“He was only hit with a stunner! I saw it!” Stan’s mask was already off. 

The sight of the old Knight Bus driver made Draco sick. Just another imperiused follower. 

“Yeah, but he fell off his broom.” Someone pulled off their mask and Draco almost fainted in relief. It was a newer recruit. 

He felt slightly guilty about the immense sense of repose that had washed over him, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully care. His family lived to see another day.

That was all that mattered.  
***

“We need to talk.”

Those infamous words never bode well.

“Can’t we do this later?” Draco winced. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with any of this bullshit.

“No, we’re doing this now.” Theo crossed his arms in a stubborn gesture, blocking his bedroom door. 

“Alright, fine. What is it?” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. He almost always had a migraine these days. 

“You said Potter’s name in your sleep last night.” Theo said flatly. “Again.” 

Shame and guilt fought for dominance in Draco’s overcrowded head. He let himself fall back onto his bed, running his fingers through his normally immaculate hair.

“Shite.” He swore before looking Theo in the eyes. “I’m sorry- you know I don’t mean to.”

"Of course you don't mean to, Draco." Theo's voice cracked in pain. "I wish it didn't matter."

"But it does?" Draco looked at him helplessly. 

"Do you know what it's like to hear your lover cry out someone else's name?" Theo was shaking and his eyes shone with unshed tears. "It's almost every night now. And I…."

"It's not like I can control it." Draco said defensively.

Theo couldn’t possibly hold him accountable for what he said in his sleep. He would gladly be rid of his inane feelings for the Gryffindor. It wasn't his fault! 

"Draco…" he placed a trembling hand beneath his chin and forced him to meet his gaze. "I'm in love with you, Draco. Have been for years at this point. Just. Please…"

"What do you want from me?"

"Tell me you're in love with me too." Theo didn't even bother to wipe at the tears that were dripping down his cheeks. "Lie if you have to, I just need to hear it. I need to know that you love me more than you love Potter."

Draco just stared at him. He couldn't think of a damn thing to say. He wouldn't lie to Theo. Not about this. But the truth was too harsh to voice. As the silence grew longer and louder Theo's expression shifted. It went from open and honest to withdrawn and constricted. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Theo shook his head “it’s always going to be Potter, isn’t it? It’s never going to be me.”

He looked resigned to the fact and Draco inwardly kicked himself for making Theo feel that way. 

“I wish I could tell you otherwise…”

“What the fuck does that mean? You wish?” Theo’s face contorted with a mixture of hurt and rage.

Draco knew he would never be able to get Theo’s tortured expression out of his head. He looked as if he were being burned alive from the inside. It made Draco want to crucio himself for causing him so much pain.

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t meet Theo’s eyes.

“You’re sorry?” Theo cried incredulously. “You don’t get to be sorry, Draco! You get to make a choice.”

Another painful silence stretched between them and Draco still couldn’t bring himself to look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again.

“You can’t just say you’re sorry and expect it to make this okay.” Theo snapped.

“I know. I know!” Draco got up and started pacing. It was a cowardly excuse not to look at Theo- to see the accusation in his eyes. “I don’t know what else to say. Nothing is ever going to make any of this okay! Salazar! I never meant to hurt you, Theo.”

“Are… are you breaking up with me?” Theo’s voice had lost all of its anger. 

Something about that phrase pulled him up short. Draco hadn’t considered that as an option. He stopped pacing and sank back down onto his bed. 

That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? To set him free?

Theo deserved better than a Death Eater. 

“I can’t give you what you need. I’m too broken. I can’t…. I’m sorry…” Draco buried his face in his hands to avoid his burning gaze. 

"It's not me, it's you. Is that it? You're going to feed me that bullshit?" 

"It's the truth. Theo, I'm so sor-"

"I love you." He sobbed.

"I never asked you to." Draco instantly regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. Theo looked like he had just been backhanded. 

"I see." He said brokenly.

"Shite, I didn't mean-"

"Save it." Without another word, Theo walked out of his room and slammed Draco’s door behind him. 

Salazar! Why was this so hard? He couldn’t stop seeing Theo’s devastated face. When his door opened again he looked up hopefully. He could try. If Theo wanted to give him another chance he would try harder to forget about Harry bloody Potter...but it wasn’t Theo.

“What’s got Nott all pissed off?” Blaise asked nonchalantly as he closed the door behind him. 

“I just dumped him.” Draco said miserably.

“That would do it.” Blaise nodded sagely as he crawled up onto his bed.

Salazar, he could be such a prick. Sometimes Draco wondered if he even had a heart. Or human emotions of any kind. 

Now that he thought about it, having no emotions sounded fantastic. If he could switch off all of the guilt and pain and anger….

Blaise settled next to him, sitting much closer than he normally would dare and Draco made a snap decision. 

If he was dead inside anyway, what was the harm?

Blaise only acted mildly surprised when Draco attacked him. His body melted beneath Draco’s touch and he matched the feverish kisses and desperate fondling with enthusiasm.

No complicated feelings. Just pure lust.

Now this was something Draco could get used to.

Blaise seemed to need this as badly as Draco did. In no time at all they had each other undressed. 

Neither one of them noticed the door opening. 

Nor did they notice the quiet sob as Theo fled.  
***

Harry supposed it was a beautiful ceremony. He couldn’t be too sure though. He had never been to a wedding before, muggle or otherwise. Either way, he couldn’t quite force himself to feel the excitement everyone else around him seemed to be feeling. 

Thoughts of Dumbledore and the troubled past he had never told him about consumed him. Harry was just supposed to carry on with his mission? Trust Dumbledore when he obviously never trusted Harry? 

He felt confused. Betrayed. Hoodwinked. Lied to. Taken advantage of. Manipulated.

He shouldn’t be surprised. 

Why would Dumbledore ever see him as capable of handling the truth? 

He was just one massive disappointment with glasses and a heartbeat. It was laughable that he thought Dumbledore had ever trusted him. 

His thoughts strayed to the snitch Dumbledore had left him and he was filled with resentment. 

I open at the close.

What a load of bollocks. Just another hoop Dumbledore had wanted him to jump through.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Kingsley’s Patronus.

The Ministry has fallen.

So it begins.  
***

Draco’s hand was shaking. He didn’t even try to stop it. 

He hated the Dark Lord. He hated himself. He hated Rowle for earning their master’s displeasure. 

“More, Rowle? Or Shall we end it and feed you to Nagini?” The cruel, high pitched voice was eerily smooth, only hinting at the white-hot rage behind his words. “Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time.”

Draco couldn’t even find amusement in the fact that the power-hungry prat referred to himself in the third person. A soft whimper arose from the prone figure shaking on the ground. 

“You called me back for this? To tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure.” The Dark Lord smirked.

Draco swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat when he had said his name. When Rowle didn’t immediately writhe in pain his head snapped towards Draco.

“Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!” He hissed. 

“Crucio!” He cried as a wave of self-loathing washed over him.  
***

Harry blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling and cobwebbed chandelier. He was wrapped up in a sleeping bag and he wondered idly where he was. A glance to his left revealed a chink of sky visible between dark, heavy curtains. It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except for Ron and Hermione’s slow, deep breathing.

Then it all came rushing back. 

The wedding. The Death Eaters at the cafe. The dust-figure of Dumbledore. The vision of Draco being forced to torture someone. One of the Death Eaters they had escaped from.

Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort. He had looked terrified. Harry couldn’t seem to get his graceful features, pinched in unknowable suffering, out of his head. Those normally sparkling grey eyes were dull and lifeless with dark circles that looked like they had been painted on beneath them. He was a shell of the boisterous bully he had come to know. 

Shaking his head to try and clear it, he turned his attention towards his two friends. Ron had had a fit of gallantry before bed and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions from the sofa. Consequently, her silhouette was slightly raised above his. They both looked so peaceful in sleep. Their arms were curved towards each other, leaving their fingers resting only a few inches apart. Harry wondered whether they had fallen asleep holding hands.

It made Harry feel utterly alone. 

Fred and George had refused to let him break up with them. That somehow made it worse. He felt even more abandoned than if they had listened to him after Dumbledore’s funeral. He wished against all logic that they could have come with them. What a laugh. He could never ask them to risk their lives for him. He was of half a mind to leave Ron and Hermione safely behind, but he had nowhere else to go.  
***

“What the HELL did you do?!” Pansy shrieked.

She had been on holiday in Spain with her mother since the beginning of the summer and had only just returned. It should have been no surprise that she immediately noticed Theo’s absence. 

“He kept pushing me! What was I supposed to do?” Draco backed up several paces in light of Pansy’s fury.

“Not hurt him so badly he takes off on his own? Be a decent human being? You knew how he felt about you! How could you?!” angry tears were rolling down her face and she had her wand out.

Sod the Dark Lord, Draco was pretty sure an enraged Pansy would be his boggart if he ever met one again.

“I didn’t even want to break up with him! He brought it up!” His voice shook with poorly concealed distress as she backed him against the wall, wand poking his throat. “There was no reasoning with him, he was stark raving-”

“You hurt him, Draco! Of course he was upset!” She snarled.

“I never meant to hurt him.” He whispered brokenly. 

Some of Pansy’s ire seemed to leak out of her and her expression softened ever so slightly.

“You’re lucky I believe you.” She snipped venomously. 

Draco’s shoulders sagged as she withdrew her wand from his throat. Without any warning, he was falling face-first onto the decorative rug in the family room. Every muscle in his body was frozen. 

“You stay right there and you think about Theo, alone and scared and suffering from a broken heart. I’ll come to release you at my discretion.” She said cooly before strolling out of the room as if she didn’t have a care in the world.  
*** 

It was raining outside. The pitter-patter of water droplets gracing the roof of their tent served as white noise in the background. The atmosphere in the tent was at a boiling point.

“I thought you knew what you’d signed up for,” Harry said as coldness stole into his heart. He had been afraid they had been saying similar things behind his back. He wasn’t sodding blind. He saw them sneaking off together. He noticed when they would stop talking when they saw him approaching. 

“Yeah, I thought I did too.” Ron snarled back.

“So what part of it isn’t living up to your expectations?” He demanded. Anger was coming to his defense now. “Did you think we’d be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you’d be back to Mummy by Christmas?”

“We thought you knew what you were doing!” Ron stood up angrily, enunciating his hurtful words with wild gestures. “We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!”

“Ron!” Hermione gasped at his words. 

“Well, sorry to let you down,” Harry’s voice was quite calm even though he felt hollow, inadequate. “I’ve been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve found one Horcrux —”

“Yeah, and we’re about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them — nowhere effing near, in other words!”

“Take off the locket, Ron,” Hermione ordered, holding her hand out for the horcrux. “Please take it off. You wouldn’t be talking like this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.”

“Yeah, he would,” Harry bristled. Ron didn’t deserve to have excuses made for him. “Why are you still here?”

“Search me,” Ron threw his hands up in mock invitation, glaring at Harry.

“Go home then!” Harry gestured towards the tent entrance.

“Yeah, maybe I will!” shouted Ron. He took several steps toward Harry, who did not back away. “Didn’t you hear what they said about my sister? Death Eaters are running Hogwarts! They tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor FOR YOU! But you don’t give a rat’s fart, do you? It’s only the Forbidden Forest, Harry I’ve-Faced-Worse Potter doesn’t care what happens to her in there — well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff —”

“I was only saying — she was with the others, they were with Hagrid! As far as detentions go that's pretty tame! You heard Dean and Ted, they weren't worried! They know Ginny can look after herself!”

“Yeah, I get it, you don’t care! And what about the rest of my family, ‘the Weasleys don’t need another kid injured,’ did you hear That?”

“Yeah, I —”

“Not bothered what it meant, though?” Ron sneered. "They're not your family."

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Harry bellowed. “You have NO RIGHT to say that to me-”

“What, like you’re so worried about what happens to them?” Ron said nastily. 

“Yeah! I am! You don’t even know that HALF of how much I care about them! I-” Harry stopped himself before he could out the twins.

“You what?” Ron challenged. When Harry stayed silent his face hardened. “I’ve had enough of this.”

"Leave the horcrux." Harry's voice was low, but Ron heard him.

"Take it! Merlin knows I don't want the bloody thing. " He growled, ripping the locket from his neck and throwing it across the tent.

Harry watched him grab his things and storm out. A loud crack announced his departure and Hermione let out a strangled sob. Harry was frozen to the spot. Terror, anger, hurt, and loneliness rendering him immobile.  
***

Draco’s heart broke as he watched his mother mindlessly serve the Dark Lord. Her expression was blank as she poured his tea. Her movements were stiff and Draco could see her silent screaming when he caught her eye. A lonely tear slipped down her cheek before the Dark Lord ordered her to move on.  
***

It was bitterly cold in the dead of winter. Theo cast an anxious glance over his shoulder. Surely they would have sent someone after him by now? He had been on the run for almost half a year. Perhaps he was safer in the muggle world than he had ever dared to hope. 

Another biting wind broke him out of his thoughts and he made a beeline for a pub he spied a little farther down the street. He could hear the bass pounding from half a block away. Some alcohol would do him good. When he finally entered the warm, dimly lit pub he almost turned around and walked right back out. 

Of course he would be here. Would he ever be done haunting him?

Draco had his back turned as he ordered a drink at the bar, however, and Theo slipped into the darkest booth he could find. He wouldn’t be run out of a warm place to sit by the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Theo couldn’t help but watch the blond as he downed his drink and glided onto the dancefloor. He seemed to scan the other dancers for a moment before dancing his way over to an attractive muggle in the middle of the floor. Theo had never been happier to be interrupted by the wait staff in his life.

“What are we drinking luv?” she asked him, laying down a bev-nap in front of him. She was pretty enough. He might have hit on her if he wasn’t so preoccupied with Draco bloody Malfoy.

“The strongest drink you have.” He said miserably. 

“You got it.” She shot him a sad smile and he flushed in embarrassment. 

He must look so pathetic: sitting at a big booth alone, staring at the dance floor. In the server’s absence, his gaze was drawn back to the one thing he wished he didn’t have to see. Now he was grinding with the muggle in a way that made Theo blush. 

Damn.

He had never danced with him like that. 

He couldn’t look away, no matter how much it hurt. He didn’t even notice when the server came back to drop off his drink. When the song had ended he looked down at the table and was surprised to see a tall glass filled with a light brown liquid in front of him. He pulled the straw out and chugged it in one go. His throat burned but he didn’t care. The warm numbness that accompanied the last swallow was very welcomed. 

When he looked back up Draco was leading the muggle off the dance floor towards the back. Theo frowned as he watched them disappear into the bathroom together. 

“That was fast! You want another one?” The server gave him a sympathetic look and Theo merely nodded. 

When she went back to the bar he pulled out his coin purse. He had emptied his vault at Gringotts the day he ran. Getting it changed into muggle money seemed like the smartest move. He had been right. The wad of strange paper money had been greatly depleted by now, but he should have enough to survive on for another year if he was cautious. He carefully peeled a couple of twenty-pound notes from the stack and put the rest away. That was his budget for getting sloshed. If he kept drinking the same thing he would be rightly pissed in no time. 

“Here we are,” she set a new glass in front of him.

“Thank you. What is this called? I like it.” 

“They call it a long island iced tea. It originated over in the states, and believe you and me, Americans like to drink.” She gushed, clearly pleased.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He smiled shyly at her and she chuckled.

“Let me know if you need anything else, alright luv?” She winked at him.

“Will do.” He grinned back.

As he watched her walk away a flash of bright hair caught his eye and his smile slipped from his lips. Draco was coming out of the bathroom alone, still buttoning his shirt back up. Before Theo could even register that, Draco was already ordering another drink and scoping out his next victim. He leaned casually against the bar, chatting up some ginger bloke with wide shoulders. 

Theo’s jaw dropped as the redhead turned and pulled Draco into a passionate kiss. When they broke apart they both downed their drinks and slipped out the back. Was he dating both of them?

By the time Draco and the ginger made it back inside Theo was on his third Long Island. He watched as Draco ditched the redhead and started flirting with a burly man wearing leather by the billiard tables. 

So not dating then.

Just as Theo finished off his fourth and final drink Draco left with yet another strange man. 

“He comes in here almost every other night. Never leaves with the same man twice. You can do better.” The waitress said as she dropped off his check, following his gaze to where Draco had just walked out.

“Oh, I’m aware. He’s my ex.” Theo grimaced.

“My condolences. Here, this shot is on me.” She set down one of the two shot glasses she was holding on the table. 

Theo picked it up and sniffed gingerly at the green liquid. 

“It’s a liquid Marijuana shot. It’s my favorite, just trust me.” She laughed at the face he pulled, holding up the second shot to cheers.

“I think I need to know your name before we do a shot together.” He smiled. 

“Amelia.” Her entire countenance brightened. 

“Then here is to you, Amelia.” He raised his glass to hers and they both threw it back. Sweet and tangy flavor exploded on his tongue and his eyes widened. “You have excellent taste.”

“Thank you." She flushed beneath his praise. "Now that we’ve done a shot together, do I get to know your name?” 

“Theo.” his lips curled into a twisted smile. If Draco could do it, why couldn’t he? “When does your shift end, Amelia?”  
***

“Fawkes.” Harry frowned, tapping the wireless with his wand. They had missed the last Potter Watch so the password was anyone’s best guess. Hermione was off on her bunk on the other side of the tent. Ever since Ron came back she had been rather cold to both of them. 

Harry didn’t rightly care at the moment. He was ecstatic when Ron showed them Potter Watch on the Wizarding Network. Hermione had been pleased to hear the voices of their classmates and friends, of course. But it was different for Harry. Each broadcast he would strain his ears for Fred or George’s voice. Hearing their generalized support of him didn’t count for much, but it made Harry’s heart soar. 

“Albus. Order. Phoenix. Mad-eye. Bones.” He tried in rapid succession, growing ever more frustrated with each wrong password. “Sirius! Dumbledore! Wolfric!”

Wolfric worked. The wireless let out a final burst of static before Lee Jordan’s voice filled the tent.

“- and there hasn’t been any news on the Potter front. We can only hope that he is alive and well.”

“Thanks for the update, River.”

Harry’s heart constricted when Fred’s voice took over. He grabbed the wireless and pulled it into his lap as if holding it could somehow bring Fred into the tent with them.

He supposed he was in love with them. 

His throat tightened with that realization as Fred started rattling off an update on what Voldemort was up to. He had never felt like this about anyone before.


	10. In which the twins make a shocking confession and Draco goes into shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron, and Hermione return to Hogwarts, but they are met with a surprising reception. The twins make a surprising announcement, Lucius is an actual father for once, Snape is a massive dickwad, Draco laughs for the first time in ages, two more Horcruxes get destroyed, and someone loses a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! I had originally intended on making the Final battle one big chapter, but Draco's side of the story demands to be written- so here we are. This is The Final Battle Part I. As always a HUGE thank you goes out to my lovely beta readers, AlexClio and SandZhark! If it weren't for them this fic would not be nearly as good! If you've stuck with me this long, THANK YOU! If you're just joining, WELCOME! Please please please please PLEASE comment! (and leave kudos if you haven't yet!) Your comments fuel my writing. The more comments I get, the faster you get a new chapter! With that said, this chapter is a feels trip. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> Happy Reading!

“Draco! Come here, we need you to identify Potter.” His father’s face was plaid and his hair lacked its usual luster. Even his voice sounded strained. “If we are the ones to hand him over to the Dark Lord, perhaps all will be forgiven.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, father.” Draco’s voice sounded weak, even to his own ears, and he cleared his throat. 

“We at least have to try.” His father sounded desperate. “Your mother…” 

Draco had never seen his father shed a tear in his life. To see the crumbling man before him scared Draco possibly more than anything else about the war. He used to be the strong, unflappable patriarch of the family. Now he was every bit the crumbling mess Draco was. It was unnerving to see.

“I’ll do what I can,” He said resignedly. 

“Yes! Perfect, come along now to the drawing-room. That’s where we have them tied up.” his father seemed to glow with hope and it made Draco sick. 

He followed him down the hall and into the drawing-room. When they rounded the corner Draco almost stopped. He was not prepared for what he saw. 

Harry’s face was swollen, making him almost unrecognizable. Draco would know his face anywhere, though. He had drawn it enough times to be familiar with every inch, every angle. The Weasel and Granger both looked worse for the wear as well, tied up on either side of Harry. A party of snatchers were hovering over them, grumbling unhappily amongst themselves. Draco jolted when he recognized Fenrir Greyback among them. That would be just Harry’s luck, wouldn’t it? To be picked up by the most violent and bloodthirsty Werewolf alive? 

“Yes, yes! Come here, Draco.” His aunt Bella sounded beside herself. “You went to school with him, tell us- is this the Potter boy?”

“I- I can’t be sure.” Draco stammered, looking anywhere but at Harry. “What happened to his face?”

“He said it was an allergic reaction.” Fenrir chipped in.

“A stinging hex is more like it.” Aunt Bella scoffed, grabbing Harry by his hair and forcing him under direct lighting. “Look again!”

Harry’s hair had grown out. It was almost to his shoulders and he had a thick beard starting to grow in. He looked rugged and rough around the edges. If this reunion were under better circumstances, Draco might have liked it.

“I don’t know.” His voice was shaking and he kicked himself for appearing weak in front of the others. “I can’t tell.”

“Get over here and look properly!” Aunt Bella barked and he immediately obeyed. She was just as sadistic and twisted as the Dark Lord. Draco was terrified of being on the receiving end of one of her unforgivable curses again. “Is it him?”

Draco looked Harry directly in the eyes. He could tell Harry knew he recognized him, but there was still a pleading hope in those emerald green eyes.

“No, I don’t think it is.” He said firmly before retreating as fast as he dared. He was rather badly disfigured by the stinging hex. Probably Granger’s doing. That insufferable know-it-all was always just ahead of him in marks. She was definitely clever enough to think of such a sneaky way to avoid trouble. 

“What about the others? Aren’t they Potter’s friends? They probably know where he is if ugly over there isn’t him.” Aunt Bella hissed excitedly.

“Could be.” Draco almost choked. “I never really interacted with them much. They’re Gryffindors, you see.”

His cheek earned him a backhanded slap from his aunt, but he had been expecting it. He was somewhat proud that he hadn’t cried out at the pain. His eye felt like it was going to explode from the sheer force of the slap and it physically knocked him sideways. He had to stumble a little just to stay upright. If it saved Harry’s life, it would be worth it. 

“You DARE?!” She screamed, raising her hand to strike again, but his father caught her wrist.

“Enough. He said he doesn’t recognize them. He has no reason to lie.” he threw Aunt Bella away from them before straightening his robes with as much dignity as he could muster. “Let us not forget who the enemy is, here.”

Draco had to physically restrain himself from staring open-mouthed at his father. He had never defended him before. In fact, he was usually the one doling out the blows. Aunt Bella looked like she was about to murder them both when something one of the snatchers was carrying caught her eye.

“Where did you get that?” She demanded in a deadly calm voice.

“I found it, fair and square. It’s mine.” The snatcher snapped.

With a violent flick of her wand, the snatcher in question dropped dead. A sword with a ruby hilt clattered to the ground with him and she rushed to snatch it up.

“Where did you get this?” She bellowed at the remaining snatchers. “Snape sent it directly to my vault in Gringotts! WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?”

“It w-w-was in their tent!” One of the terrified snatchers stammered. 

Once she had the information she was after she stunned the lot of them and rounded on the Malfoys that were gathered around her.

“Draco, take this scum out to the courtyard. If you’re too gutless to finish them, leave them for me to deal with later.” She hissed.

“Don’t you dare talk to my son like that.” 

Everyone turned to stare in shock at his mother. Her voice was weak and bland, but you could hear the underlying anger behind her words. Draco’s heart started pounding in overtime. She was still there. Underneath all of the enchantments the Dark Lord has placed on her, his mother was still in there somewhere. 

“You have no idea of the danger we are in!” shrieked Aunt Bella. She looked frightening, mad; a thin stream of fire issued from her wand and burned a hole in the carpet. “Draco! Bring the prisoners to the cellar. All except the mudblood.”

The Weasel started screaming his head off, fighting against his restraints. He was yelling at his Aunt to take him instead of Granger and Draco had to give him credit for his bravery. She cut Granger loose anyway, promising the Weasel that he would be next. 

Draco stepped forward and grabbed the ropes that bound the rest. There were a goblin and another Gryffindor from their year bound to Harry and the Weasel. He wondered passively why he hadn’t noticed them before. He led them as gently as he could to the cellar, wincing when Granger started shrieking in pain. 

“Get down there and don’t make any noise, alright?” He hissed at the group, severing their ropes with his wand. “I can’t do much, but I will try to help. Just stay quiet.”

He didn’t wait for their response, slamming and locking the cellar door. Salazar, why had he said that? The look on Harry’s face flashed in his mind again and he sighed. Oh, right. That’s why.

When he got back upstairs he stuck to the shadows, casting pain relief spells non verbally with his wand pointed surreptitiously at Granger. She was the brains of their operations so Draco needed to make sure she survived. 

When they brought the goblin up to confirm Granger's story that the sword was a fake, Draco considered sneaking down to the cellar to release everyone down there. Just as he decided to risk it, Granger let out a blood-curdling scream. Aunt Bella had carved the word 'Mudblood' into her flesh. Draco bit back a grimace and resumed his spell casting. 

A few moments later a loud crack echoed up from the cellar and he winced. He told them not to make any noise. He was relieved when Aunt Bella had told him to go check on them, but she changed her mind at the last second and sent Wormtail instead. 

Shite.

Aunt Bella touched her mark to summon the Dark Lord.

Double shite.

It turned out he didn’t need to worry, Harry and the Weasel were perfectly capable of saving themselves. They stormed the drawing-room together, casting curses every which way. Draco ducked and sent a stunner towards his aunt, hoping she wouldn’t notice where the curse came from in the chaos. He missed. 

Aunt Bella took control back by holding her silver knife to Granger’s throat. That pulled the other Gryffindors up short. They dropped their wands and he was ordered to collect them. Finally, some luck at last. He held them loosely in his grip, trying to keep them at an easy-to-grab angle for when Harry worked out a backup plan. 

A screeching sound from above alerted Draco that Harry didn’t need one. Dobby, their old house-elf, was unscrewing the chandelier. Draco dove out of the way just in time. Shattered glass exploded everywhere. As the dust settled he found himself only a few feet away from Harry, whose stinging hex was fading. He tossed Harry the wands he was holding and Harry shot him a quizzical look. He threw one to the Weasel and one to Granger and Draco swore. Harry didn’t have a wand. 

“Potter!” He whispered. 

Harry edged towards him and Draco had to steel his resolve. He couldn’t believe he was doing this...but he couldn’t leave Harry wandless. He had to get out of here.

“Malfoy?” Harry shot him a sidelong glance.

Draco stared down at his wand for a moment, appreciating the subtle shine of the polished hawthorn. Harry inched closer and Draco knew it was now or never.

“Here, take my wand and get out. You have to get out of here. The Dark Lord is coming, do you understand?” Draco pressed his wand into Harry’s hand.

“He just left Nurmengard. He will be here soon.” Harry tilted his head, considering Draco. Draco didn’t even care how Harry knew that. He just needed to leave.

“Then you better be on your way!” Draco hissed, shoving Harry away from him and towards his friends. 

Harry ran without looking back, shooting off more stunners as he and his friends made their way back towards Dobby. His Aunt threw her knife just as all four of them disappeared with a deafening crack.

It was over. Harry had escaped. He had done what he could. 

Fear took over as his main emotion as he remembered that the Dark Lord was on his way here, expecting Harry to be waiting for him like a sitting duck.

Harry was gone and he was wandless.

They were all dead.  
***

It was bizarre. Harry had no idea the Room of Requirement could create secret tunnels. If he had known that he wouldn’t have needed to use the one with the one-eyed witch statue to sneak into Honeydukes. He supposed he really shouldn’t be shocked at this point, it was truly a miraculous room.

It was currently one massive dorm room with cots and hammocks and house banners all over the place. Everyone was so happy to see them. They kept asking questions and Ron and Hermione were helping him to answer them as best they could. There was just too much that they couldn't share.

Damn Dumbledore and all of his secrets. 

“You don’t understand.” Harry felt like he had said that phrase a lot recently. “We can’t tell you. We’ve got to do it- alone.”

“Why?” Neville asked, his face determined.

“Because…” In his desperation to start looking for the missing horcrux, or at least to discuss with Ron and Hermione privately what their next move should be, Harry found it difficult to focus. His emotions were like a raging hurricane. “Dumbledore left the three of us a job to do, and he didn’t want us to tell-” he paused, trying to be diplomatic as possible “we’ve got to do it on our own, just the three of us.”

“We’re his army!” Neville cried in outrage “Dumbledore’s Army! We’re all in it together. We’ve been keeping it together while you’ve been off on your own-”

“It hasn’t exactly been a picnic, mate.” Ron chimed in their defense.

“I never said it was! But you can trust us, we are on your side. Everyone in this room has been fighting! We’ve all been driven here by the Carrows hunting us down. We’re loyal to you- to Dumbledore!”

“Look,” Harry started, but he didn’t know what he could say to make them understand.

It didn’t matter. Right at that moment, the tunnel entrance opened behind him and people came rushing in.

“Hey there you lot!” Dean grinned. “Long time no see, eh?” 

Seamus gave a roar of delight and ran to hug him. When they started kissing Harry moved his attention to the others who were pouring in. 

“Hello everyone!” Luna said serenely. “It’s quite good to be back.”

“How did you-” Harry started to ask but he was cut off by Neville.

“I sent for them!” He grinned, holding up his old DA coin. “I promised all the other members I’d let them know if you ever showed up.”

“We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows.” The single Slytherin that had joined the throng piped up. Harry thought her last name was Clio, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Of course that’s what it means.” Luna said brightly. “Isn’t it Harry? We’re going to fight for Hogwarts.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but that isn’t what we came to do-” Harry started. He could feel a full-blown panic attack coming on and he wondered how he would survive this one.

“You mean you’re not going to fight? You’re going to leave us in this mess?” Michael Corner demanded.

“Of course not! What we’re doing will benefit everyone- it’s all about stopping you-know-who-” Ron interjected.

“Then let us help! We want to be a part of it!” Neville snarled, bristling at having to be left out again. 

There was another noise behind them, and Harry turned. His heart seemed to fail, Fred and George were leading a whole group of people out of the tunnel and into the Room of Requirement.

“Aberforth’s getting a bit annoyed,” Fred grinned widely at the entire room “He wants a kip, and his bar’s been turned into an underground railway station.” 

Harry didn’t hear the shouted replies. He could only see Fred and George. He wanted to run to them, tell him he loved them- but their need for anonymity kept him in place. When Fred caught his eye it felt as if the world had stopped turning. Before Harry could so much as catch his breath, George and Fred were both in front of him. Fred grabbed him first, crashing his lips onto his and Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care about the audience they had, he didn’t care that Ron and Hermione were right there, all he cared about was pressing himself into Fred as close as physically possible.

Merlin, he had missed them.

When Fred let him go to the sound of wolf whistles and gasps of shock, George took over and Harry lost all sense of reality again. George was much gentler than Fred and Harry appreciated both ends of the spectrum. The burning, searing kiss from Fred, and the soft, loving kiss from George. They balanced each other out perfectly.

“I missed you.” He breathed when George finally released him.

“We missed you too.” George winked.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he buried his face in Fred’s shirt, holding onto him as if he were afraid he would lose him. George came up behind him, sandwiching him in the middle as he wrapped his arms around both of them. For the first time in almost a year, Harry felt whole. He had his boys back.

“I love you.” He blurted without even thinking. “I- I’m in love with you. Both of you.”

“Cheers then,” Fred grinned. “We’re in love with you too, Harry.” 

“What in the bloody hell-” Ron started, but Fred cut him off.

“Oh, piss off. We’ve been dating.”

“For just about two years now.” George piped up.

“And we don’t want to hear any shite about it.” Harry growled. 

Everyone looked awe-struck, and a number looked confused or disgusted.

“Right, you lot,” Fred addressed the rest of the room, not letting Harry go. He held him by the waist and George slung his arm around his shoulder and Harry was grateful for their support. “We heard the tail end of what seemed to be an argument about what Harry and the others need to do to win this war. From what I gathered, you all were giving the man we love a load of shite about completing his mission. Well, I’ve got something to say to you. Our darling Harry, He-Who’s-Kisses-Are-Divine-”

“My heart and soul.” George shot the room a cheeky grin.

“-is doing everything he can to defeat You-Know-Who, so sod off, yeah? If he thought clueing us all in would help defeat the right bastard, Harry would clue us in. If he is keeping secrets, there must be a very good reason. So why don’t we all just shut up, put all of our personal feelings aside, and listen to The Boy Who Can Take Two-”

“Oi! You can stop right there!” Ron sounded panicked. When Harry glanced over at him he looked like he might faint.

“Can Take Dating Two Weasleys.” Fred glared at Ron before continuing. “If there is anything we can do to help, you need to trust that The Saviour of My Heart, and the Wizarding World, will let us know. Alright?” 

“Why can’t they help?” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“What?” Harry and the twins chorused together, turning to look at her.

“They can help! We don’t know where… it is. We’ve got to find it quickly. We don’t have to tell them what it is.” Hermione’s hazel eyes were alight with the sort of fire Harry had come to associate with exam week.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, his face full of skepticism. 

“I think Hermione is right,” Ron shrugged. “We don’t even know what we’re looking for, we need them.”

Harry bulked at the thought of putting more people in danger. As usual, Fred and George seemed to read his mind.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, love.” Fred said softly.

“We are here to help you in any way we can.” George agreed, placing a quick kiss on his neck. 

Harry thought fast, his scar prickling painfully. Voldemort knew they were after his Horcruxes now, and he was in a towering rage. Dumbledore had warned him against telling anyone but Ron and Hermione. 

Secrets and lies. 

That’s how Dumbledore had lived. Was he turning into him? Keeping his secrets close to his chest, afraid to trust? Yet Dumbledore had trusted Snape. And what had that led to? Death at the top of the astronomy tower. His panic from earlier hit him full force and George pulled him into a full hug.

“It’s alright, Harry. We’ve got you.” He soothed. “You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

“We will support you no matter what you decide.” Fred agreed, kissing Harry’s temple.

“Alright.” He choked into George’s shoulder. “Ok, I need help.” 

His admission seemed to both lessen the weight on his shoulders and hurt his heart as he thought of the danger they would all be in.

“Then let us help you.” Fred pleaded, pulling him out of George’s arms and into his own. “We have your back, oh Chosen One. Just tell us what to do.”  
***

Draco couldn’t stop the convulsions,

The Dark Lord had crucioed the lot of them when he arrived at Malfoy Manor only to find that they had let Harry escape. 

Then he did it again. 

And again.

And again.

For almost two months straight the residents of Malfoy Manor were tortured on a daily basis. After the break-in at Gringotts, even his aunt was subject to the Dark Lord’s displeasure. The worst was when he forced them to torture each other; through the imperius curse or through coercion via death threats. Of course Aunt Bella was always more than happy to dole out punishment, no coercion needed for her. 

Draco spat on the floor and wasn’t shocked to see blood. He was pretty sure he had bit his tongue during the last round. He gingerly ran his tongue across his teeth and winced when he found the sore spot. 

Fear gripped him when he felt his dark mark burn. The Dark Lord was standing on the other end of the wand that had been the cause of his suffering, so it could only mean one thing.

Harry had gotten himself caught again. 

Draco sent a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening to keep Harry safe. He was good at getting himself out of tight spots. Merlin, please let him get out of this one too. Before the Dark Lord tortured and killed him.

“Freshen yourselves up.” The Dark Lord hissed gleefully. “I think it is finally time for this silly little game to come to an end. Potter dies tonight and I want you all to look your best.”

Draco schooled his features into a mask of indifference as he followed his parents upstairs. Perhaps if he were allowed to go he could find a way to save Harry. 

He would either save him or die trying.

Once he was safely in his room, Draco pulled out his most recent sketch pad and flipped to the last page. He allowed himself only a few fleeting moments, but it was enough. He drank in the familiar lines of Harry’s face and his hauntingly beautiful eyes. His fingers lightly traced the outline of Harry at Dumbledore’s funeral, eyes determined and his expression fierce. 

It was in that moment he realized Harry might actually win this war. 

He heard footsteps echoing in the hall and shoved the sketchbook under his pillow, pulling on a fresh set of plain black robes. By the time the knock came, he was ready. When he opened the door it revealed twin expressions of fear on his parent's faces. 

“Come, Draco. We’re returning to Hogwarts.” His father said stiffly. 

He nodded briskly, then fell in line behind him and his mother. They walked in silence down what was once an exquisite grand staircase. It only held memories of pain for Draco now. The Dark Lord met them in the foyer, looking positively delighted. Draco had to stop the shiver that was trying to slither its way up his spine. Whenever the Dark Lord smiled, death and destruction were sure to follow. 

“Excellent, my loyal followers.” He beamed at them. “You all have a chance to redeem yourselves tonight. If any of you bring me Potter, all will be forgiven. Lord Voldemort is nothing, if not merciful.”

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you for this most gratuitous opportunity.” His father knelt before the Dark Lord and the others followed suit.

“Thank you, my Lord.” They droned in unison. 

“Very well, you may go. If you do happen to run into Potter, bring him to me alive and unspoiled.” He demanded before opening the front door to the manor and taking off into the night. 

Draco shuddered as he watched him go, like a bizarre bat-like creature taking flight. They started marching silently towards the front gate so that they could apparate to Hogsmeade. Even in the Dark Lord’s absence, no one dared to speak a word. 

They arrived in one of the private rooms in the Three Broomsticks without incident and were directed out of the bar and down the lane. Of course the Dark Lord would want to set up camp in the Shrieking Shack. When they finally found a way inside Draco almost turned right back around. His murderer of a godfather and the other Death Eaters were already in council together. Draco was sickened by the sight of Severus. He supposed he should be grateful, if he hadn’t killed Dumbledore Draco would have had to. That logic failed to reach his churning stomach, but nevertheless, he had to endure. Sod the world, save himself. Harry too, if he could help it. 

“Ah, Draco. Welcome back.” Severus sneered. “The Dark Lord wishes you to infiltrate the castle. Your friends are already waiting for you at the other end of this secret tunnel.” He strode purposefully across the room and moved a large crate to reveal the entrance to a small tunnel. “Your orders are to watch the Room of Requirement and to follow and thwart Potter should he enter it. Thwart, not kill. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He gulped, eyeing the mouth of the tunnel. It was tiny. He would have to crawl all the way to the castle. He was rather unenthused about the prospect, but anything would be better than sitting in here with a bunch of murderers. He started walking towards it when he felt a hand grasp his elbow. He looked back into the terrified eyes of his mother. He could see her spirit fighting to break through.

“Be careful, Draco. Come back to us alive.” she begged.

“I will.” he vowed, not breaking eye contact until she nodded and released him. Sod the other Death Eaters. He wrapped her up in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. He was a few inches taller than her now. He was shocked when his father joined them, pulling them both to his chest.

“Safety first, son. Orders second. Don’t martyr yourself for him.” He whispered so softly Draco hardly dared believed he had said anything. Something about his words echoed Pansy’s mantra of 'sod the world save yourself’ and Draco gave a small nod.

“As touching as this display is, you need to go.” Severus drawled, yanking Draco away from his parents and shoving him towards the tunnel. 

Draco squared his shoulders and held his head high as he approached the entrance. He crouched down, spine still erect. If he was marching to his death, he would not let the last time his parents saw him be marred by cowering in fear. He crawled into the tunnel with as much dignity as he could. He was grateful when it turned into a steep slope, obscuring him from the other’s view. He heard his godfather move the crate back in front of the entrance and he gulped. 

Thoughts of being trapped down here for the rest of eternity spurred him to move faster. The scent of damp earth and moldy wood assaulted his nostrils, getting stronger the farther away he crawled from the shrieking shack. After what felt like an eternity he understood the source of the smell. A wall of interwoven tree roots blocked his path.

“Bombarda!” He hissed, trying to point his wand with accuracy despite the lack of space. 

It worked. He quickly vanished the molded bits of soggy root and continued on his way. At long last, the tunnel started sloping upwards and he could see faint light filtering down from an oddly shaped exit hole. He scrambled up it, desperate to feel the wind on his face.

He was unprepared to find that the tunnel dumped him out at the base of the whomping willow. He stared at the violently twisting limbs for a moment before he heard something sailing towards him. He threw up his arms to shield his face, but it was unnecessary. With a loud thwack next to him, the whomping willow stilled and he looked around curiously.

“Hurry! It doesn’t stay frozen for long.” Gregory Goyle called out to him. Draco ran toward the voice. He made it out of the willow's reach just in time. It started swaying and whipping its branches about as if angered by the lost opportunity to pummel him.

“You look terrible.” Vince snorted by way of greeting and Draco almost smiled.

“I feel terrible.” He admitted, pulling them both into a rare hug. They both returned it a beat too late and when he released them they looked shocked. “I’m glad you two are alright.”

“Yeah, we’re alright.” Greg coughed to hide his surprise.

“As long as we do what we’re told it ‘ain't too bad. We were worried about you when you didn’t come back after Easter holiday.” Vince eyed him speculatively. 

“I got… held up at the manor.” He grimaced, sidestepping the sore subject. “Clever of you two to follow orders and keep out of trouble.”

“Well, we’ve had plenty of practice taking orders from you.” Greg shrugged and guilt washed over Draco. 

“I’m sorry I made you two feel that way.” He choked. He had never meant to make them feel like he was ordering them around. Now that he thought about it, though, they were right.

“We didn’t mind. It was easier to listen to you than trying to figure stuff out on our own.” Vince shrugged. “We like orders.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure.” Draco made eye contact with each of them in turn and found no resentment in their eyes. His shoulders sagged in relief. “Speaking of orders, we have orders to keep an eye on the Come and Go room for Potter. We aren’t supposed to hurt him, just bring him back to the Dark Lord.”

“Yeah, one of the Carrows told us something like that before they ran off shouting about Ravenclaw tower. I can never tell them apart.” Vince nodded. 

“They also said the Dark Lord would be coming here tonight.” Greg failed at hiding the fear in his voice.

“He’s on his way.” Draco confirmed. The shiver of terror that ran through him was mirrored in both of his friends. “Come on, we better get going. How are we supposed to get inside? I heard Snape telling my parents that McGonagall barricaded the entrances.”

“Ah, we got that covered.” Vince nodded towards three broomsticks that were laying half a foot away in the grass. 

Draco walked towards them, picking up his old Nimbus 2001 reverently. He hadn’t flown since he quit the Quidditch team back in fifth year. 

“We figured you’d appreciate using your own broom. We grabbed it while all of the prefects were ushering the rest of the house into the great hall.” Greg beamed.

“Thank you.” He ached to be back on his broom again. 

Without further ado he hopped on and took off, spiraling upwards as fast as he dared. A feeling of weightlessness consumed him and he let loose his first genuine laugh in what seemed like ages. It felt good to be airborne again, just what he needed after the claustrophobia of the tunnel. When Vince and Greg caught up to him he grinned over at them.

“What do you say we race around the castle, for old times sake?”

“Last one to the Astronomy tower is a poisonous toadstool!” Vince shrieked as he took off without them. Draco wasn’t far behind.

“Cheaters!” Greg cried as he took off after them.

Vince had a decent head start, but Draco was faster. He leaned forward, flattening himself as much as possible to gain more speed. He passed Vince in a blur as they rounded the first corner. He had forgotten how much he truly loved flying. The exhilaration, the sense of weightlessness, the freedom. All too soon he was landing lightly on top of the Astronomy tower, turning to watch Vince and Greg flying in circles above him to slow down their descent. They landed at the same time, grinning and out of breath. 

“I guess that makes you both poisonous toadstools.” He teased. 

“I don’t even care. I haven’t had that much fun in forever.” Greg panted, resting his broom against the ramparts. 

“Me either.” Vince grinned as he and Draco followed suit, leaning their brooms next to Greg’s.

“We deserve a little fun.” Draco motioned for them to follow him over to the door that led down into the castle. “I know it’s been a rough year for everyone.”

“I can't believe they still leave this door unlocked after everything that has happened.” Vince snorted as Draco tried the door and it swung inward at his touch. 

“Their stupidity works in our favor tonight.” Draco muttered as they started down the endless staircase. 

All feelings of lighthearted banter vanished as they reached the seventh-floor corridor. The Dark Lord's cruel voice seemed to emanate from the walls themselves and the three of them flinched.

"I know you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile, you cannot fight me. I do not wish to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood, but I will if necessary.” There was a pregnant pause and Draco felt his anxiety skyrocket. “Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will all be rewarded beyond your wildest imaginings.” 

Draco leaned against the closest wall, gasping for breath. It was one thing to know the Dark Lord wanted Harry dead. It was another to hear him demand Harry be handed over to him on a silver platter like it was nothing.

“You have until midnight.” The Dark Lord’s voice reverberated through the castle. 

"Shite, Draco are you ok?" Vince was squinting at him.

Draco tried to answer but he couldn't find the breath to say anything. He couldn't even nod or shake his head. Flashes of the past two months rendered him motionless. Greg and Vincent's voices sounded like they were getting farther away the more he tried to focus on them. Draco couldn't move a muscle. It was like he had been petrified, but this wasn't due to any type of magic. Pure panic rolled off of him in waves. Greg wasted no time in slapping him across the face. 

Draco gasped at the outside source of pain, drawing in as much air as he could. When his head stopped swimming he looked up.

"Thanks for that." His voice sounded weak, even to him. "How did you know that would work?"

"Had to slap a couple of kids out of shock during their detentions. I recognized the signs." Greg said sadly. "What did he do to you while you were stuck at the manor?"

"Imagine the worst torture you can think of, then imagine him forcing your mother to do it to you." He said bitterly. "After that, imagine him forcing you to do it to your mother in return."

"Fuck." Vince swore and Greg's jaw dropped.

"Draco-"

"I don't want to talk about it. Can we get a move on? We've got a job to do." He snipped.

Their jaws snapped shut and they nodded for him to lead the way. Draco took off without another word, already feeling guilty for yelling at them. He slowed as they approached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his ballerina trolls, motioning for the others to stay close to the wall. 

The whole castle shook as the sounds of battle echoed through the air. 

It had begun.


	11. In which the world ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Hogwarts has fully commenced. Death eaters have penetrated Hogwarts and suddenly the entire world falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt me to write. A word of advice: BRING A BOX OF TISSUES! If you've stuck with me this long, thank you so much! Your loyalty means the world to me! As always a huge shoutout to my darling beta AlexClio and my lovely omen SandZhark! This fic would not be nearly as good without their continuous input. Happy reading!

The stretch of wall was still blank. If Harry was in there, he had been smart enough to cover his tracks. Draco sent the second prayer he had ever made to whatever gods were listening that that was the case. He cursed inwardly when they heard someone shout Harry’s name just a little way down the hall. He nodded at the tapestry when he caught Greg and Vincent's eyes, ducking into the hidden alcove behind it. They followed wordlessly. It was a tight squeeze with all of them, but Draco didn't care. He was busy deriving what pleasure he could from hearing the sound of Harry's voice.

“I’ve had hundreds of kids thundering through my pub, Potter!” the same voice snarled.

“I know, we’re evacuating.” Harry’s voice was like a cooling potion poured on a raw wound and Draco tried not to react. “Voldemort’s-”

“-attacking because they haven’t handed you over, yeah. I’m not deaf, the whole of Hogsmeade heard him! Did it ever occur to you to keep some of the Slytherins hostage? There are kids of Death Eaters you’ve just sent to safety! Wouldn’t it have been smarter to keep them here?” The disembodied voice sounded again. It was oddly familiar and yet completely strange to Draco.

“They’re kids, Aberforth! They’re innocent in all of this. Their parents' choices are not their own.” Harry said heatedly and Draco’s heart broke just a little. 

“Now is no time for your idealism! This is war, boy!” The man called Aberforth argued.

“It wouldn’t stop Voldemort.” Harry’s voice sounded hard and Draco could imagine the fire flashing in those green eyes. “Your brother would have never condoned it.” 

The man's reply was lost in the sound of an explosion but Draco didn’t care. Of course Harry would never consider using hostages. Wasn’t it just classic Harry to defend Slytherins- the children of the same Death Eaters that were ready to kill him on sight. It was asinine. It was idiotic. It was completely and utterly Harry, and Draco loved it. He jumped When Harry started shouting. He sounded much closer than he had been just a moment ago and Draco’s anxiety kicked back into overdrive. 

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Chamber of Secrets,” The Weasel’s voice came from the other end of the hall.

“Chamber- what?” Harry sounded lost.

“It was Ron’s idea! Wasn’t it brilliant? After you left I said to him that even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t destroyed the cup! And then he thought of the basilisk!” Granger’s voice joined the fray. 

Absolutely nothing she just said made sense, and apparently Harry thought so too.

“Basilisk? What-?”

“Something to get rid of the horcruxes.” The Weasel said in a very matter of fact tone. 

Draco felt like ice had just been dumped down the back of his shirt.

Of course!

That’s how the Dark Lord had survived the rebounding killing curse all those years ago. He had committed the greatest atrocity known to wizardkind. He had made a horcrux. The Weasel’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he immediately became nauseated. He said another horcrux down. As in the Dark Lord had multiple. The thought of it was enough to make him gag. Greg and Vince shot him worrying looks but he shook his head. There was a massive explosion nearby and a high pitch scream cut through the sounds of battle. 

“I know what the diadem looks like, and I know where it is, “Harry was talking fast and their voices were drawing ever closer. “He hid it exactly where I hid my old potions book, where everyone has been hiding stuff for centuries. He thought he was the only one clever enough to find it. Come on!”

The sound of raging battle filled the corridor and Draco couldn’t make out any more voices. He peeked out around the tapestry and jerked back immediately. The Weaselette was storming out of the come and go room, defiance etched onto her features. 

“And then you come right back! GINNY! YOU HAVE TO COME BACK!” Harry’s voice filled the corridor again. 

Chaos.

There were multiple voices shouting and screaming, there was a loud roar coming from outside and the castle shook violently. Draco peaked out from behind the tapestry and spied a giant passing by the window. Three Order members ran off, leaving Harry and his friends alone. Harry started pacing and Draco held his breath. This was it. 

A door appeared and the trio were talking amongst themselves but Draco couldn’t hear what was being said over the din of battle. Once they disappeared, the door stayed visible and Draco swore. He was supposed to cover his tracks! Now he had to follow him in there and try to stop him. Draco cast one last sweeping glance up and down the corridor before motioning for Greg and Vince to join him.

“The coast is clear, come on.” He called. 

The three of them dashed across the hall and through the door, shutting it firmly behind them. They could hear multiple sets of footsteps echoing through the towering piles of junk; bottles, hats, crates, chairs, books, weapons, broomsticks, and even a few live bats.

“We should split up. Follow the sound of their footsteps, alright? Remember, we need to bring Potter back alive.” He whispered. Greg and Vince nodded, each taking a different flank. That left Draco to go down the middle. He grimaced as he passed the vanishing cabinet he had used to sneak Death Eaters into the castle last year, the night he almost became a murderer.

“Somewhere near here…” Harry’s voice rang out a few feet ahead and Draco almost felt hopeful. If he were the one to capture Harry, he could help him escape. 

He found him in an alcove of junk off to the left, staring at a blistered old cupboard with an old bust of Merlin on top wearing a wig and a discolored tiara. Harry rushed over to it and picked up the tiara. It must be the diadem they were talking about. 

The Horcrux.

“Stop right there, Potter.” Draco’s voice shook. He squared his shoulders as Harry turned around.

“Malfoy.” He snarled, clutching the diadem. 

Draco froze, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to capture Harry. Or stop him from destroying the horcrux he was holding. 

“Is that it, then? Ravenclaw’s lost diadem?” He said instead and he kicked himself internally. What an idiotic thing to say in this situation!

“What’s it to you?” Harry looked mildly surprised. 

“Did he really turn it into a… a horcrux?” Draco retched on the word.

“How do you know about that?” Harry snapped, taking a defensive stance.

“You said so, just outside.” Draco tilted his head back towards the entrance.

“You were following me?”

“More like laying in wait. That’s not the point. You said ‘another horcrux’. How many did he….” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. 

“Why does it matter to you?” Harry looked torn.

“Is that the last one? Can you destroy it?” Draco sidestepped the question.

“The snake is the last one, and yeah I can destroy it.” Confusion was now the winning emotion playing at Harry’s perfect features. “Why am I telling you this?”

“You have to.” Draco whispered, unintentionally taking a step closer. “You have to destroy it. Please.”

“That’s the plan.” Harry didn’t retreat as Draco moved closer. 

Draco stopped mere inches away. He could feel Harry’s body heat rolling off of him. 

“You’re the only one who can kill him.” Draco choked. “The others- he has the others out looking for you- you need to hide! They have orders to leave you alive, but I-”

“Harry?” The Weasels' voice echoed suddenly from the other side of the closest wall of forbidden objects. “Are you talking to someone?”

Draco swore, jumping away from Harry and drawing his wand. If the Weasel had found them then Greg or Vince wouldn’t be far behind. 

“Greg and Vince are coming. You have to get out. I can try to distract them-” He hissed out of the side of his mouth but he was cut off by the arrival of all four of their friends. 

“You found Potter!” Greg roared victoriously.

“Harry! Look out!” Granger shouted, running towards them.

“It’s the mudblood!” Vince snarled “Avada Kedavra!”

“Vince!” Draco cried in shock, eyes going wide at the jet of green light that had erupted from the end of his wand. Granger dove to the side and Harry sent stunning spells in their direction. Curses were flying every which way and Draco was appalled to see more green join the throng of reds and oranges. 

“Don't kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!!” He roared. 

Greg and Vince both blinked at him in confusion. It wasn’t much, but it was all Harry needed. He shot off the disarming spell and Greg’s wand went flying into a pile of junk. He lept after it, diving foolishly into the wall of forgotten relics. Draco dodged a stunner from Granger and the Weasel fired off a body bind curse at Vince. It was pandemonium. Draco considered stunning his friends just to make all of the shouting stop. He couldn’t believe Vince had tried to kill Granger. What happened to them while he had been stuck at the manor? 

Harry and his friends were shouting at each other while firing off spells to hold them off. He had been so close to getting Harry to listen to him and escape. How had it all gone to shit so quickly? A roaring, angry noise had Draco turning his back on the lot of them and cold dread spiked in his heart. 

Fiendfyre.

He grabbed for his friends in a panic, but it was hard to see. The massive room was already filling with smoke. 

“I didn’t know it would go up so fast! I can’t control it! I’m sorry!” Greg was crying, white ash sticking to the wet streaks down his face.

“We need to move!” Draco screamed but his voice was drowned out by an explosion nearby. 

The fire was devouring centuries worth of contraband, feeding on it hungrily and only growing with rage. Draco dragged one of them by the robes, hoping the other would follow until he found a pile of debris that looked climbable. When he reached the top of a pile of charred desks he turned to see that Greg was the only one with him. 

“Where’s Vince?” He asked weakly. Greg shook his head then screamed as a fire serpent crawled up his back. Draco cast a shield charm around them, wildly hoping it would work. 

It did.

The flamed serpent fell off but Greg collapsed in his arms. 

Vince was gone. Greg was critically injured. They were surrounded by an uncontrollable dark fire with no foreseeable way out. Draco let out an anguished cry. Was this really how it would all end? Being burned alive? What a terrible way to die. He tilted his head up, pleading with whatever deities there may be to help him. Movement caught his eye and he turned. 

Harry was flying towards him on an ancient broom, Granger and the Weasel sharing one behind him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. As they drew closer Draco realized he was coming to save them. 

Vince had tried to kill them. Yet they came back to save them.

Draco reached up, holding onto Greg with one arm. Harry grabbed onto him, but they were too heavy. Draco’s hand slipped from his grasp and he pulled back around.

“IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” the Weasel shouted before diving down so Granger could pull Greg onto their own broom.

Now that he was unencumbered he climbed up behind Harry easily, wrapping his arms around his waist. He selfishly took a moment to relish in the sanctioned closeness, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

“Get to the door! We can negate the fire by vanishing the room!” He cried. 

Harry merely pushed the broom faster, racing after the others through the billowing smoke. It was getting hard to breathe, even above the flames. With one final violent whoosh, the last few objects that hadn’t been incinerated by the ravenous flames were flung into the air. Harry dodged the falling debris; cups and shields, a sparkling necklace, and an old, discolored tiara.

“Harry! The Horcrux!” Draco screamed.

Harry made a hairpin swerve and dived after it. With the unerring skill of a seeker, he caught the diadem around his wrist, saving it from the maws of a flaming chimera. Harry swerved again as the chimera lunged for them, soaring upwards and straight towards where the door should be. The Weasel and the others were already gone. A patch of light became visible through the smoke and Harry angled them towards it. Moments later clean air filled his lungs just before they crashed into the opposite wall. Draco let himself fall off the broom, coughing up soot. Ganger and the Weasel sat panting on the floor beside Greg who was still unconscious. Draco crawled over to him, rolling him over to check his wounds. He gagged at the sight.

“Ep-episky!” He cried, patching up the raw skin as best he could. He fell back against the wall, tears blurring his vision. “Vincent…”

“He’s dead.” The Weasel snapped harshly.

Draco didn’t respond. He buried his head in his arms and mourned for his friend.   
***

“Where is Ginny?” Harry didn’t have time to make sure Malfoy and Goyle were alright. He had to finish his mission. “She was supposed to go back into the room of requirement!”

“Blimey, do you think it will work after that fire?” Ron glanced back at the now blank stretch of wall. “Should we split up and look for her?”

“No, we need to stick together.” Hermione coughed, brushing uselessly at the soot all over her clothing. “I say we- Harry, what’s that on your arm?”

“What? Oh, yeah…” He pulled the diadem from his wrist. It looked like it was bleeding, a sticky black substance leaking out of the yellowed crystals. It let out a quiet scream of pain before shaking violently and breaking apart in his hands.

“It must have been fiendfyre.” Hermione whispered fearfully, eyes glued on the broken pieces.

“Sorry?” He looked at her blankly.

“Cursed fire. It’s one of the ways to destroy horcruxes. I would never have dreamed of using it, it’s so dangerous- how did Crabbe know how to use it?” She glanced back behind them to where Malfoy was still slumped against the wall, his body shaking with sobs. 

“He must have learned it from the Carrows.” Harry said bitterly.

“Shame he didn’t pay attention when they taught them how to stop it.” Ron snorted.”If he hadn’t tried to kill us, I might be sorry he was dead.”

“No one deserves to die like that.” Harry snapped. “It doesn’t matter what side he was on.”

“Hold on, don’t you realize what this means?” Hermione interrupted before Ron could respond. “The snake is the only one left!”

“There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, his thoughts racing. 

The unmistakable sound of a duel suddenly filled the corridor. A cacophony of noise was making Harry’s head throb; people shouting, screams of terror, giants roaring from outside the windows. It was all so overwhelming. He barely had time to register that the diadem was destroyed. When they came to the top of the stairs Harry’s heart seemed to fail. Death eaters had invaded the castle. 

Fred and Percy were backed into a corner, dueling three masked and hooded figures at once. Without thinking or even waiting for the others, Harry rushed in to help, taking the steps two or three at a time in his haste. He stunned one of the Death Eaters as he ran, spells flying in every direction. When their comrade fell the cloaked figure that had been dueling Percy fell back. They tripped over the fallen Death Eater and their hood slipped, revealing the imperioused Minister of Magic. 

“Hello, Minister!” Percy bellowed, casting a quick jinx. “Did I mention I’m resigning?” 

Percy’s jink hit Thicknesse square in the chest and he dropped to the floor, clawing at his abdomen in obvious discomfort. In the blink of an eye, the man was replaced by some form of sea urchin.

“You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouted as he and Harry both took out the remaining Death Eater with twin stunning spells. 

With all three immediate threats neutralized, the five of them relaxed. Harry rushed to wrap Fred in a hug, thanking the stars that he was alright. 

“Merlin’s beard, you actually were joking!” Fred laughed, kissing Harry on the top of the head before turning towards his no longer estranged brother. “I don’t think I’ve heard you crack a joke since you were-” 

The very air around them seemed to explode, cutting their small little reunion short. Harry was thrown backward and it was all he could do to keep hold of the thin piece of wood that was his only weapon in this war. He could hear the other’s screams but had no way of knowing what had happened to them. 

The next sensation Harry was aware of was pain. Terrible pain erupted all over his body. 

He was buried underneath a load of rubble. His glasses were gone. He couldn’t see anything. Cold air hit his face and he became aware of a hot substance flowing from his temple. He was bleeding copiously. The corridor must have been blown wide open. A shaking pair of hands entered his range of vision and he suddenly was being pulled out from underneath the broken stone. He grabbed his rescuer’s shoulders, identifying her as Hermione through all of the dust that polluted the air. 

“Thanks.” He coughed breathlessly.

An agonizing scream pierced the night and Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

That scream was not caused by any curse or fire. It was more raw, and it scared him more than anything else in his whole miserable existence. Three bright blurs of red caught his attention and he forgot how to breathe. Two red-headed figures were bent over a third. 

“No-no! NO!” a despairing cry arose as Harry and Hermione approached the three Weasleys.

Suddenly Harry didn’t need his glasses. He didn’t need clear vision for his world to be wrought apart.

“Fred?” He didn’t remember deciding to speak. “NO! FRED! NO!” 

His voice broke as he pushed Hermione away and rushed to Fred’s side. Ron and Percy made room for him without comment. Fred’s eyes were staring up at the now visible sky, unblinking- unseeing, with his last laugh still etched upon his face. 

"Don't leave me. Please…" Harry sobbed, grabbing his hand. "I need you. George needs you. Please. PLEASE!"

"Harry, he's-" Hermione placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder but he yanked away from her.

"NO!" He screamed, burying his head in Fred's chest, just like he had a thousand times before. Only this time there was no reassuring heartbeat. "Please come back! You can't leave me like everyone else..."

The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? Harry’s heart felt like it was literally shredding, crumbling, and falling apart right in his chest. He had felt pain before. But never like this.

Ron moved closer, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and he let him pull him off of Fred.

“I know, mate. I know.” was all he said, but it was enough. Harry let out a grief-stricken sob, falling back into Ron as they both lamented their loss.

A body fell past the breach in the castle wall and curses flew in at them from the darkness, hitting the wall above their heads. 

“We have to go.” Hermione’s voice sounded oddly constricted and Harry looked at her. Tears had cut through the grime on her cheeks and she looked almost as lost as he felt. She wordlessly held out his glasses to him. 

Harry grabbed his hair and pulled, trying to find something to focus on. Slowly all of his injuries started screaming; the smoke in his lungs, the gash on his head, blistering burns on his forearms and feet from when he went back for the diadem. They allowed him to channel his attention to the physical pain instead of his entire world imploding. He let loose one last guttural roar and stood up, taking his miraculously not broken glasses and putting them on with trembling hands. 

Hermione shrieked and Harry followed her gaze. A spider the size of a small car was scuttling down the corridor towards them. Aragog’s descendants had joined the fight. Ron and Harry raised their wands at the same moment and their combined spells sent the spider flying out of the gaping hole in the wall. 

“Come on, we better get going before the rest of them show up.” Ron’s voice faltered only for a moment. 

“No. We have to move Fred’s body. We can’t let anything happen to him.” Harry said as firmly as he could manage. He joined Percy who had taken Harry's place, weeping over his body. “Come on Percy, we need to take him somewhere safe.”

Harry gently closed his eyes with his fingers, just as Luna had done for Dobby, and grabbed him underneath the armpits. Ron and Percy each grabbed a leg and together they carried him into an abandoned classroom. They set him behind the professor’s desk, where he would be the safest, and Harry had to physically force himself not to stare. He could almost be sleeping. 

“Harry, the snake....” Hermione said gently when he didn’t move after putting Fred down.

“Yeah. Right. Of course.” He said tonelessly, shoving all of his emotions into a drawer and locking them away to deal with later. He had a job to do.  
***

Draco groaned under the weight of a still unconscious Greg as he carried him to the Hogwarts Infirmary. His first thought had been to take him to St. Mungos, but the hospital probably wouldn’t take kindly to treating Death Eaters right now. The infirmary would most likely be empty in the midst of battle so he would have free range of all of the medical supplies.

A group of people ran past them shouting back and forth, but it was all just noise to Draco. He didn’t really care to see who they were, he just stopped walking and kept as close to the wall as he could. He had cast disillusionment charms on the both of them before leaving the seventh-floor corridor. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in a duel. When the group had finally vanished around the far corner he sighed in relief.

They were almost there, but Greg was getting rather heavy. He stumbled down a secret passage that was, blessedly, free of stairs. It had a steep incline, though, and Draco struggled not to fall. If he could get him to the infirmary he could patch him up. He was no expert, but he had done extensive amounts of research into healing magic. He could at least make sure Greg wouldn’t die too. 

What seemed like an eternity later they finally arrived at the infirmary. Draco shouldered the door open and was pleased to find that his assumption had been correct. The room was completely deserted. Some supplies had fallen onto the floor, but the beds were unoccupied and Madam Pomfrey’s office door was ajar, revealing it to be empty as well. Draco let Greg go and levitated him onto the closest bed before rushing over to the supply cupboard. His hands were shaking as he pulled vials and sprays out. It was one thing to read about the theory behind healing magic and feel that you understood it. It was another thing to perform it without any training or practice. 

He wracked his brains, trying to remember the chapter on magical burns. There had been specific instructions on how to treat Fiendfyre victims if they were lucky enough to even need medical attention. One does not normally survive an encounter with fiendfyre. He closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths as he tried to conjure up the image of the page. 

It worked. He could see the open book in front of him.

Essence of dittany should be applied as quickly as possible to stop the burn from spreading. Clean the wound of any ash or debris, then reapply the essence of dittany to aid in replacing any lost skin. Once the burn is saturated, draw your wand and use this incantation: 

Therapeuo Medela 

Move your wand in a figure-eight motion across the infected area while repeating the incantation until the wound is fully healed. 

Draco opened his eyes and grabbed for the essence of dittany. His novice healing spell had stopped the burn from spreading up on the seventh floor, so he ignored that step. He carefully peeled off layers of singed fabric from Greg’s burns and retched at the smell. He cleaned each burn with painstaking precision until no trace of ash remained. Once he was satisfied that the burns would not get infected, he coated them in the dittany. 

Now for the hard part.

He took a few moments to collect himself before attempting the spell, doing his best to focus despite the raging battle outside. 

"Therapeuo medela, therapeuo medela, therapeuo medela…" He chanted, hovering over the worst of the burns first. He was not prepared for the sudden drain of energy as Greg's skin started responding to the spell. He almost wanted to stop, but he couldn't. Greg had to survive. When he could not physically move his wand any longer he staggered back and collapsed onto the bed next to Greg's. 

As he was catching his breath he heard movement and looked towards the sound. Greg was stirring, shifting positions, and blinking blearily at the room around him.

“Wha’ happened?” He slurred as he tried to sit up. 

“You got burned by fiendfyre.” Draco panted.

“How did we end up here?”

“Potter saved us.” 

“Oh.” He paused thoughtfully. “Did Vince…?”

Draco couldn’t meet Greg's eyes. How was he supposed to tell someone that their other half is gone?


	12. In which one hero dies and a new one rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle of Hogwarts is about to reach it's pinnacle. Neither can live while the other survives. Who will live and who will die? Harry convinces himself he's worthless, Narcissa finds her inner strength, Lucius pulls his head out his arse and Draco holds his own in a very intense duel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last! The final battle (AND CANON) is over!!! DOBBY IS A FREE ELF! I have such plans for the rest of this fic and I am so excited to share it with you all! If you've stuck with me this long, thank you. If you're just joining in, welcome! As always a massively MASSIVE thank you to the two beta readers who are making this fic possible, AlexClio and SandZhark! Alex pointed out a massive plot hole I had written and then both of these AWESOME nerds helped me figure out a way to fix it. I had to re-work a part or two, but all 3 of us are happy with the outcome and I hope you are to!  
> Happy reading!
> 
> *Disclaimer*  
> Some dialogue is taken directly from the books. All credit goes to JKR (unfortunately)

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry as he lay face down on the floor of Dumbledore’s office. Snape’s memories had ended abruptly and spat him out, but he found he couldn’t be arsed to care. He was never meant to survive. Dumbledore had been playing an intricate game of wizards chess, and he was nothing more than a pawn to be sacrificed. His true job was to walk calmly into the welcoming arms of death. 

Dumbledore had done a clever job of wrapping up loose ends, having the last horcrux destroying the previous horcruxes along the way. Was he supposed to just accept his own death? Was his fate to fling himself defenselessly at Voldemort’s feet so that he would be mortal once more? It was sickening how neatly it all worked out. Neither could live. Neither could survive. 

His heart began pounding an erratic rhythm in his chest, pumping faster the more he thought about his death. It was ironic. His heart seemed to be trying to get a lifetime's worth of beating out before he sacrificed himself. 

He pushed himself off of the dusty carpet and left without bothering to look at Dumbledore's portrait. He didn’t want to see those pale blue eyes x-ray him one last time. He let the office door slam shut behind him and raced down the spiral staircase. He couldn’t bear to stand still. 

He felt dirty. 

He had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him. It was enough to make his stomach churn.

He felt used.

Dumbledore had raised him as a lamb for the slaughter, just like the evil git had said. Harry never even had a chance to choose for himself. 

He felt betrayed.

He had trusted Dumbledore, yet all Dumbledore saw him as was expendable. A means to an end. 

He swore softly when he noticed he was crying. Then he laughed at himself for being embarrassed. He was only about to die. Crying wasn’t an overreaction. He took several deep breaths, then pulled out his invisibility cloak. He draped it around his shoulders quickly, pulling the hood snugly over his head. 

As he walked he mulled it over. Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the pain would finally stop.

The pain of loss.

Tonks, Lupin, Fred, Sirius, Cedric, Hedwig, Dobby, his parents. He could see them again. No one else would have to die in his name. He wasn’t worth it anyway.

The pain of neglect.

Every time his Aunt and Uncle locked him in his cupboard, every birthday spent doing chores or being bullied by Dudley, every time they denied him food because of his accidental magic. Every time he was hurting and needed a hug but got a slap and verbally abused instead. He never deserved love.

The pain of never being good enough. 

Constantly feeling like he was, in fact, a waste of space. Never feeling like he deserved any of the praise he suddenly found himself drowning in when he turned eleven. Never feeling like he really belonged, or even mattered. He didn’t deserve happiness. 

The pain of being a burden.

Everyone would be so much happier if he weren’t around to complicate their lives. Always feeling like he was holding Ron and Hermione back. Like Fred and George were only with him out of pity. 

A sharp stab to the heart made him gasp.

The pain of losing Fred. 

The pain of losing everything.

His resolve hardened and he quickened his pace. Perhaps he hadn’t been unfairly raised for the slaughter. What if Dumbledore knew what a worthless piece of shit he was and was doing him one last favor from beyond the grave? Someone else could kill Voldemort and then the whole world would be that much better off without either of them in it. 

The castle was eerily silent after the battle that had just ensued. He made his way quickly through the deserted halls and down empty staircases, never slowing, never faltering. Ron and Hermione would kill the snake, and then it would all be over. When he reached the entrance hall he could hear the mournful murmur of voices coming from the great hall, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t need to see the dead. He would be joining them shortly. 

He walked numbly down the front steps and onto the grounds. Scores of people were running around, shouting, trying to treat the injured, and count the dead.

No more.

No more would have to die in his stead. As he made his way to the Forbidden Forest he had to dodge fallen bodies and frantic helpers alike. He caught a whiff of something that reminded him of safety and happiness and his heart kicked into overdrive. 

“It’s alright, you’re going to be fine. I promise.” George’s voice floated on the wind and Harry almost stopped. 

He wanted to run to him. He wanted to be the one George was comforting. He wanted to be told to stay, that he was loved and needed and desired. That he didn’t have to die. He wanted so badly to reveal himself and give George one last kiss, but he would only stop him from doing what needed to be done. He pressed on, leaving George behind. This was a trip he had to make alone. 

Everything seemed sharper, more vibrant. It was as if all of his senses were determined to work to the fullest extent of their abilities before they ceased forever. He could see everything in sharp relief as if he had just gotten a new pair of glasses. He could see the individual leaves on the trees. Everything looked ominous and foreboding in the pale moonlight. He could feel the crunch of wet grass and twigs beneath his feet. He could hear the wind and the distant shouts as people found more survivors back by the castle. He passed Hagrid’s hut and all of the memories he had made there threatened to overwhelm him. He could smell the damp earth and death in the air and the overwhelming scent of trees as he drew nearer to the forest. Voldemort was waiting for him in that forest. His death loomed ever closer. The game was over, there were no moves left to make. The snitch had been caught.

The snitch!

Harry’s heart skipped a beat as his fingers fumbled with the mokeskin pouch around his neck. He pulled the snitch Dumbledore had left him and put it up to his mouth. The familiar writing materialized.

I open at the close.

Harry felt that he finally understood what it meant. 

“I am about to die.” He whispered to it. 

It cracked open, revealing Marvolo Gaunt’s ring. The cracked black stone had the mark of the Deathly Hallows engraved into it and he suddenly knew what it was. 

The resurrection stone.

He closed his eyes and turned it over three times. With a soft pop, five white figures joined him on the edge of the forest. Harry couldn’t breathe for a moment. They were neither ghost nor living flesh. They more or less resembled the Tom Riddle that had been trapped in the diary, more substantial than a ghost and yet not truly there. 

He recognized his parents from the mirror of Erised and Hargrid’s photo album. They were both gazing at him with identical smiles on their faces. James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was still wearing the clothes he had worn when he died with lopsided glasses and unruly black hair. Lily was positively beaming, her flaming red hair cascading down her back as her green eyes searched his face hungrily. Lupin and Sirius were both much younger than he had known them in life. They looked so vibrant and carefree. 

The last figure was Fred, and Harry felt his throat close up. 

“You didn’t think I was going to just leave you like that, did you?” He smiled sadly.

Harry couldn’t help it. He rushed forward to wrap him in a hug and stumbled when he only met air. 

“We can’t fully come back, sweetheart.” His mother said gently. “We aren’t meant for this plane anymore. We’re only an echo.” 

Harry stared, drinking the sight of her in. She looked so beautiful. 

“You’ve been so brave, Harry.” James said proudly. “You’re nearly there.”

“Does it hurt?” He asked, slightly ashamed of the childish question.

“Dying? It’s quicker and easier than falling asleep.” Sirius grinned at him.

“And he will want it to be quick. He will want it over with.” Lupin nodded sagely.

“I didn’t want you to die.” Harry felt a lump in his throat forming and he didn’t bother to even try to choke it back. "I didn’t want any of you to die. Fred, I’m so sorry,” He sobbed, sinking to his knees in the face of his dead loved ones. “And Remus, you just had a son-”

“I’m sorry too. I am sorry that I will never know him, but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand that I died to make a world where he could have a happier life.” Lupin assured him.

“Don’t you dare go blaming yourself for my death.” Fred said sternly. “I chose to stay and fight. I chose to be in that corridor. Just about the only thing I didn’t choose was falling in love with you, you git. And that I will gladly do a thousand times over, because you’re worth it, Harry.”

“It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have survived when you didn’t.” He said weakly. “I should have died in your stead…”

Fred caught his gaze and Harry was trapped in a kaleidoscope of gold and brown. 

“That has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve heard all night. Mind, I spent a solid couple of hours with Percy, so that’s saying a lot.” He scoffed. “You were meant to survive, love. And I’m happy to have known you- truly known you, for as long as I did.”

“But I-”

“I love you, Harry James Potter. And I do not regret a thing.” Fred reached out to touch him, stopping just before he would have made contact and let his hand drop. 

A chilly breeze emanated from within the forest, making him shiver. He knew they would never tell him to go. It had to be his decision. 

“You’ll stay with me?” He looked each one of them in the eye. The resolve he found in each pair gave him strength. 

“Until the very end.” James smiled warmly.  
***

“The boy… is he dead?” a cruel, cold voice rang out across the small clearing.

The Dark Lord's words were met with silence. No one seemed to want to be the bearer of bad news if Potter wasn’t.

“You,” Voldemort turned his wand on Narcissa and she flinched, bracing for the pain. It came in the form of a shouted command via the imperius curse and a quick burning hex to the shoulder. She cried out briefly at the double onslaught, then collected herself. “Examine him. Tell me if he’s really dead.”

Narcissa took a deep breath, then hastened to do as she was told. She could feel her rage and fear simmering around the edges of the curse, trying to break through and free her. The Dark Lord, however, was too strong. His will dominated hers and she had no choice but to obey. 

She knelt next to the Potter boy and her heart softened just a little. He looked so incredibly young laying there. His untidy black hair and round-rimmed spectacles bespoke of strangely charming innocence and all at once she understood Draco’s secret flame for the boy. She touched his face hesitantly and almost jerked back in shock when she felt warm breath escaping from his nostrils. Curiosity had her pulling back his eyelid. His pupil dilated in the firelight and her breath caught in her chest. 

He was alive!

Her hands found their way beneath his shirt, checking for something that might have negated the spell. She found nothing. His skin was perfectly smooth and she could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. How could a little teenage boy survive the killing curse? 

Hope consumed her like a roaring fire. Her thoughts turned to Draco. She might be able to save him. 

It happened so suddenly she almost passed out from the shock. The carefully controlled calm was disintegrating. It felt like someone had poured acid directly onto her brain and it took all of her willpower to stay silent as the damned bubble that kept her a slave to the Dark Lord’s will burst. All of the pain and anger and fear she had been denied to feel came rushing back to her now and she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips.

She was free.

She was finally free. Narcissa bent her head close to Potter’s ear, shielding them from the Dark Lord’s gaze with her hair. 

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?” she demanded, breathing the words softer than any whisper.

“Yes.” Potter’s reply was equally quiet and her fingers spasmed, driving her nails into his chest before she drew them back. She pushed herself up and away from the boy.

“He is dead.” She called clearly and calmly as she retook her place beside Lucius. She gave him a long measuring look and was pleased when a spark of life returned to his eyes. Good. After all this time, their silent communication had not been diminished. He nodded his head ever so slightly to show that he understood. 

They were going to save Draco. 

Narcissa struggled to keep her face impassive as the Dark Lord crucioed the boy. Of course he couldn’t leave his presumed corpse unsullied. He had to prove his superiority. She forced herself to laugh as the rest of the Death Eaters broke into a fit of jeers and cheering. If the Dark Lord thought he had lost control of her everything they had done to protect Draco would have been for naught. 

She found herself impressed by Harry Potter. He stayed limp, allowing the Dark Lord to throw him into the air and torture him without so much as twitching a muscle. He truly was a remarkable boy. She reached down and grabbed Lucius’s hand, interlocking their fingers. The simple act of physical contact with her husband acted as an anchor for her. As long as they had each other, she could face anything. 

They watched in silence as the Dark Lord forced the half-giant to carry Potter in his arms. He was wailing shamelessly and some of their party found it amusing. They cackled with glee at his distress and hurled insults at him as he passed them to spearhead the conquering army with the Dark Lord. Narcissa found it heartbreaking. 

How could anyone be so cruel as to mock someone who was mourning the death of a loved one? She couldn’t remember how they ended up in this position. It seemed like lifetimes ago that Lucius came back from a mandatory meeting with the heads of the most notable pureblooded families with a blank expression and a new found cold indifference. 

Narcissa fell in line, still holding tightly to Lucius as they began to march out of the forest and towards Hogwarts as one. She tutted impatiently when he released her hand to pick something up off the forest floor. A wand? She only caught a glimpse of it as he slipped it into his robe pocket, but she would recognize that wand anywhere.

It was Draco’s wand. The wand Potter had been using. A plan began forming in her mind as they walked. The more she strategized, the more confident she became that all three of them just might make it out of this alive.  
***

“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself as you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that he is gone. The battle is won. You have sustained heavy losses, and your supposed hero is finished. The Boy Who Lived lives no more. Any who continue to resist me will be slaughtered. Lord Voldemort does not differentiate between man, woman, or child, every member of every family that continues to fight will be wiped out. Come out of the castle now and kneel before your new Master. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will all be forgiven. Join me, and we shall build a brave new world together.”

Dread dripped into Draco’s heart at the Dark Lord’s words. It was impossible. It couldn't be over. They had fought too hard, survived through too much. He numbly followed the crowd of students and teachers and Order members out onto the grounds. Before he had a clear view of the lawn a terrible scream rent the air.

“NO!”

The scream was all the more terrifying because he had never expected that the eternally composed Professor McGonagall could make such a sound. A familiar maniacal laugh chilled him to the bone. Aunt Bella seemed to relish in McGonagall’s despair and he felt like he would be sick. The people in front of him shifted, all yelling and crying out in agony and Draco finally saw why. 

Harry was dead.

Harry was dead, laying in the big oaf’s arms, limp and unmoving. 

His world stopped spinning and his vision pinned. The only thing he could see was Harry’s wasted face. He heard the Dark Lord call for silence as if he were at the far end of a very long tunnel. Hagrid jerked, moving Harry’s body, shakily placing him at the Dark Lord’s feet. The Weasel was shouting something, and it seemed to rally the crowd but Draco still could not pry his eyes away from Harry. They were all silenced again and the Dark Lord droned on, but Draco didn’t hear a word. The spell was easily broken once more and there was a flash of commotion to Draco’s left yet he still could not look away.

Harry couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. 

A flash of brilliant green stopped Draco’s heart. Harry had opened his eyes. He was sure of it! Just the smallest hint of emerald peeked out from behind his eyelashes. Draco blinked rapidly and then squinted, hoping against all hope that he was right. Harry still looked completely and utterly dead, no sparking green shining in the light that was spilling across the lawn from inside the castle. He couldn’t have simply imagined it, could he?

“I’ll never join you.” Longbottom’s voice cut through the fog in his brain but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Harry. He might open his eyes again at any moment. “I’d rather die. Dumbledore’s Army!”

There was a roarous answering cry from the students around him and Draco marveled that the Dark Lord’s silencing charms didn’t seem to stick. 

“Very well,” The Dark Lord’s tone was dangerously smooth, like poisoned honey. “If that is the fate you choose, then on your own head be it.”

There! Just now! Draco saw Harry’s eyes open infinitesimally. 

He almost cheered. The sense of relief he felt was staggering as he let loose a breath he hadn’t been aware that he was holding. The shattering of glass caught his attention and Draco noticed a black blur flying towards the Dark Lord. He caught it by the tip, revealing it to be the sorting hat. 

“There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts school.” The Dark Lord said conversationally, stroking Nagini’s snout as she coiled around his shoulders. “There is only one house now. All of the others are obsolete. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone.”

He pointed his wand at Longbottom, immobilizing him so he could force the sorting hat over his head. By unspoken consent, both sides drew their wands. They stood in a stalemate against each other with the Dark Lord and Longbottom in the middle of no man’s land.

“Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to those foolish enough to continue to oppose me.” with a lazy flick of his wand the Dark Lord set fire to the sorting hat, eliciting a scream from Longbottom.

He was able to break the Dark Lord’s body bind curse just as easily as the silencing charm and he threw the hat off his head. When it hit the grass it stopped burning and a glittering ruby hilt could be seen poking out from underneath the brim. 

Longbottom grabbed at the sword and swung around, brandishing it at the Dark Lord. He laughed as he deflected the blow, sending the sword flying. It landed roughly ten feet away from where Draco stood and he looked over at Harry. He was still laying as still as a stone at the Dark Lord’s feet. He had said the snake was the last Horcrux. If he killed the snake, the Dark Lord would be mortal once more. 

Without stopping to think it through any further, he pushed past the students in front of him and grabbed the sword by its hilt. It vibrated violently in his grasp and he almost dropped it. He gripped it tighter and, after a moment, it seemed to accept him as its wielder. It stopped trying to shake itself out of his hands and started to feel more like an extension of his own arm. The words ‘Godric Gryffindor’ glinted in the moonlight before Draco raised it and charged at the Dark Lord. 

The Dark Lord blinked in shock for only a moment before bringing up his wand and firing a curse at him. He had an almost bored expression on his face as if he had anticipated Draco’s betrayal. Draco dodged the purple jet of light and yanked the sword up. It sliced open the Dark Lord’s sleeve before decapitating the gigantic snake still writhing around his shoulders.

Nagini’s head fell to the grass with a final thud and several things happened at once. The Dark Lord let out a howl of rage and turned his wand on him, pointing it directly at his heart. With the killing curse dancing upon the Dark Lord’s lips, the ground started shaking. A tremendous roar could be heard in the distance and it looked like the mountains themselves were advancing on the castle. 

The entire front lawn erupted into chaos and Draco was spared. He ducked around the Dark Lord and tried to blend in with the others. Reinforcements for the Order were screaming a battle cry as they charged towards the group gathered on the grounds. The next moment revealed house elves pouring out of the castle brandishing cookware as weapons. Giants and centaurs were joining the fray from behind, causing the Death Eaters to scatter in surprise. The pounding of the giants’ feet caused the ground to shudder and shake, knocking some people off balance. Draco scanned the ground for Harry and had a small panic attack when he couldn’t find him. 

He was gone. 

The fight was slowly moving indoors and Draco let himself get lost in the crowd as he transfigured his Slytherin tie into a scabbard. He sheathed the glittering sword, ruby red complimenting emerald green. He wanted to keep it as a memento. A talisman to remind him that Gryffindors aren't the only morons allowed to be brave. That Slytherins could be heroic too. He attached the scabbard to his hip, tying it around his waist beneath his robes. He was pleased to find it fit comfortably. 

A commotion at the top of the stairs caught Draco's attention and he shook his head in disgust. The Dark Lord was throwing his Death Eaters and students alike behind him in his haste to get away from the trampling feet of the giants. There was no honor among murderers, apparently. 

When Draco glanced to his left he stopped dead in his tracks. A few people pushed him and shouted at him for being in the way but he didn't care. He had finally spotted Harry, and he was off to the side with the most unlikely person imaginable. He moved closer, unsure if he was going to have to save Harry from his father or not. He had his back to Draco, but his voice rang out loud and clear.

"Did you lose something, Potter?" He asked, holding out an object Draco couldn't see. 

"Draco's wand." Harry said reverently, cradling his hawthorn wand. "I lost it in the forest. How did you-"

"It fell out of your robes while he… while he crucioed you." His father's voice sounded suddenly strained. "No one else noticed, so I picked it up. Draco won himself a new wand, but I figured you might need it."

"You have no idea." Harry laughed bitterly. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it." His father turned, swishing his robes in a very Malfoy-ish fashion. When he caught Draco watching him he gave him a very formal nod in greeting and moved on. 

Draco stared after him in shock. When he looked back at Harry he flashed Draco a small smile before wrapping himself in a silvery fabric and disappearing from view. Draco let out a crazed laugh, hardly daring to believe his eyes. 

They just might survive this.

Draco turned and followed the tail end of the crowd through the castle doors and into the Great hall. Small duels had broken out here and there, but the most ferocious battles took center stage in the middle of the hall. 

The Dark Lord was dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and an Auror all at once and he was holding his own. Come on, he silently begged someone- anyone. He’s mortal now. Just kill him. Please. 

Not fifty feet away his Aunt Bella was also dueling three opponents at once. Draco was impressed by the nerve of Granger and Lovegood. They were putting up quite a fight. He was only mildly surprised to see Pansy as their third partner. She gave as good as she got, flinging hexes at an impressive speed. His aunt let out a delighted shriek and he felt an all too familiar spike of panic. That sound was usually the preamble of a gruesome murder. He shot a stunning spell at her as he ran towards them, but missed by mere centimeters. She sent off a flaming dragon to keep the girls occupied and spun on the spot, her eyes growing wide when she spied him. He stopped moving and raised his wand in a defensive stance. She wouldn’t take him down easily. He could at least buy the others some time to recover.

“You would dare, spawn of my blood?” She hissed, closing the distance between them. 

Draco took half a step back to secure his footing, then squared his shoulders and faced her with dignity.

“You attacked my friends. Treated me like rubbish. Tortured me and my family in our own home with zero repercussions.” Darco’s voice grew stronger and louder with each word. All of the pain and rage over the last two years came bubbling to the surface. “The real question, dear Auntie, is how did you dare?” He snarled before shooting off another stunning spell. Hundreds of people now lined the walls of the entrance hall, watching the two duels with rapt attention; the Dark Lord facing the best of the Order of the Phoenix, and himself against his Aunt.

She ducked out of the way of his next curse just in time and threw a blue jet of light in his direction which he easily sidestepped. He hadn’t intended on dueling his Aunt, but now that he was he felt a perverse sense of cathartic release. She was fast and had impeccable reflexes, but so did he. He held his own for a fair amount of time before she started bearing down on him, backing him into a literal corner. 

“NOT MY SON, YOU SHREW!”

Draco’s heart soared at the sound of his mother’s voice. Aunt Bella whipped around and started laughing. 

“You would duel me, Cissy?” She mocked. “Your own sister?”

His mother shot off a killing curse so fast Draco didn’t even see her wand move. Aunt Bella didn’t stand a chance. Her taunting smile froze on her face as his mother’s curse found its mark.

“Rule one of a duel, never let your guard down.” She scoffed as her sister fell. 

Draco’s silver eyes met hers for an instant before they were both running towards each other. The Dark Lord bellowed in fury at the loss of his most trusted, blasting his three opponents back into the crowd. He rounded on Draco and his mother, who were embracing. 

Draco stiffened when he noticed the Dark Lord move towards them and shoved his mom behind him, facing the Dark Lord with his head held high.

“Well aren’t the Malfoy’s just a rotten bunch.” The Dark Lord hissed, slowly advancing on them. “You’re a disgrace to wizardkind, killing your own kin. I believe it is high time I took out the trash. Avada-” 

“PROTEGO!” someone roared, casting one of the strongest shield charms Draco had ever seen between them. The Dark Lord struggled against the shield but to no avail. They all looked around for the source of the charm and Draco didn’t bother to stop the cheer that erupted from his throat when Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak.

There were multiple cries of “Harry!” and “He’s alive!” echoing around the hall, but when the Dark Lord let out another furious snarl they all fell silent. 

They started circling each other at the exact same moment and Draco rushed to pull his mother and himself out of their path. 

“I don’t want anyone to interfere.” Harry’s voice was shockingly calm and Draco’s admiration for him only grew. “It’s got to be like this, it has to be me.”

“Oh, but Potter doesn’t mean that, does he? That isn’t how you work. You’re a survivor, just like me. Who are you going to use as a shield this time? Hmm?” The Dark Lord jeered.

“Nobody. There are no more horcruxes. There is no one else to die for me. It’s just us two.” Harry didn’t take his eyes off the Dark Lord. “Neither can live while the other survives.”

There was a commotion to one side and everyone but Harry and the Dark Lord turned to look. Augustus Rookwood pushed his way into the circle, took one look at the situation and pointed his wand at Harry’s back.

“NO!” Draco cried. 

He heard his father’s voice mutter something behind him and watched in awe as Rookwood fell into a crumpled mass on the ground. He was screaming and twitching in pain as his father advanced on him. 

“Only a coward attacks his opponent when his back is turned.” He sneered down at him before knocking him unconscious with a swift kick to the head. “

The group of people around them that had seen what happened burst into polite applause, causing Harry to look over. He made eye contact with Draco’s father and gave him a curt nod before turning back to the Dark Lord.

“You still don’t get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn’t enough! Don’t you ever listen? The wand chooses the wizard. The Elder wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who had never even touched it. They removed it from Dumbledore against his will without even realizing what they had done, or that the most powerful wand in existence had given them it’s allegiance. The true master of the Elder wand was Draco Malfoy.” Harry gave off an air of confidence and Draco’s blood drained from his face.

He was the master of the Elder wand? The Deathstick? The Wand of Destiny? 

“Enough of these childish distractions!” The Dark Lord shrieked. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to us. We both no longer have our connected cores. Tonight we duel on skill alone. Once I kill you, I will kill Draco Malfoy.” he sneered.

“You’re too late, you missed your chance. I overpowered Draco months ago. I took his wand from him before escaping the Manor,” Harry only had eyes for the Dark Lord once again, raising Draco’s wand in evidence.

A small shiver ran up his spine. This was neither the time, nor place, but the way Harry had said his name sent a small thrill through him. He clenched his fist around the wand he had won from one of the Death Eaters that had been staying at the Manor. 

“Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does… then I am the true master of the Elder wand.”

Dawn broke and the entire hall was suddenly bathed in a warm red glow. Both combatants flinched as the light hit their faces, but they each recovered quickly.

“Avada Kadavra!

“Expelliarmus!”

The two spells collided in mid-air, sounding like cannon fire. Draco watched the Elder wand arc high, dark against the brilliant sunrise. It spun across the room, sailing towards the master that it would not kill. With the unerring skill of a seeker, Harry plucked the wand from the air. The Dark Lord fell backward, arms splayed, killed by his own rebounding curse. He hit the floor with anticlimactic finality and total silence fell. 

“We’re free.” Draco choked on his relief as his parents wrapped him in a suffocating hug. “We’re finally free.”


	13. In which we witness death eater trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war has ended. The light had won. The Death eaters have all been rounded up and given a FAIR TRIAL this time around. Why did it take almost a year to try the Malfoys? Harry makes a courageous (and very stupid) decision and it changes the course of the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!! I am excited to announce: Canon is finally over and we have officially entered the death eater trials! Well, the only death eater trial that matters: The Malfoys. I enjoyed writing this chapter. I threw in some explanations for those who haven't read canon or who may or may not have forgotten some of the key points of canon. I also added some (rather brilliant, if I do say so myself) explanations as to why Luci was such a dick in canon. As always, a massive thank you to my lovely beta readers; my DARLING 💙 AlexClio, and my lovely OMEN💚 SandZhark!  
> If you've stuck with me this long, thank you so much! I really hope you love the story so far!  
> If you have any adorable Drarry moments you want to see included in this fic or in the outtakes, leave them in the comments section and I will try to work them in!  
> Happy reading!

The sun moved into the perfect position, spilling light into his otherwise dim solitary cell. Draco wasn’t being punished specifically. All of the Ministry holding cells were solitary. His mother was in the cell next to his and they would talk occasionally. The guards were rather nice about it, which was quite a shock. 

Draco pulled the parchment and quill someone had been kind enough to leave him closer and began sketching delicate lines. His current project was a drawing of his mother in all of her protective glory, dueling Aunt Bella in the great hall at Hogwarts. It was the first time in over two years he had seen her acting of her own free will. Of course her first free act would be to save him. 

He smiled softly at the memory. 

It had been almost a year since that day. The Ministry had rounded up all of the death eaters and their families and put them in holding cells until they could stand trial. Most of the children were allowed to go free, those who were underage were sent to a rehabilitation center that Harry had founded. Pansy wrote to him frequently about it. She had begun volunteering at the center, trying to atone for the small role she had played in the war. 

Draco was marked. There was no atonement for him. 

He actually quite liked it here. There was no one torturing him or hurling insults at him. He was allowed to read or draw at his leisure. It was certainly better than Azkaban, although he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be carted off there. The new Minister had informed him that his trial was tomorrow, and as per a third party's request, he would be tried with his parents. Draco was fairly certain it was just a ploy to speed things up. The death eater trials could sometimes take weeks to be resolved, and the Dark Lord had amassed quite the following. 

He frowned when his quill made a line too thick, throwing the entire image off balance. This was the problem with drawing using a quill. There was no margin for error. He pulled back and looked at his handiwork. If he could darken the details on the other side….

It was refreshing, only having his art projects to worry about. He supposed he should feel worried about the trial, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The Wizengamot would most likely rule them all guilty regardless of any evidence brought forth. He hadn’t heard of a single release thus far. He didn’t deserve to be released. 

None of them did. 

Except for his mother.  
***

Harry rubbed his face with both hands while Kingsley droned on about the upcoming trial. There was a migraine starting to build behind his eyes and all he wanted was to be with George as he faced his first birthday without Fred. Harry and George had tried to make it work for months after his death, but it was too painful for both of them. Every tender moment, each casual touch only served as a reminder of what they had lost. They both still cared about each other, but it simply wasn’t enough. The sound of parchment being unrolled brought him back to the present and he scowled.

He didn’t want to do this.

He had successfully managed to escape attending the first half of trials, but he had asked Kingsley to alert him when the Malfoys were next on the docket. Why did it have to be today of all days? More importantly, why had it taken the Ministry almost a year to try the Malfoy family? 

He had tried multiple times to get the hearing date moved up, but apparently, there was some red tape even the Savior of the Wizarding World couldn’t cut through. 

“Two of them are marked death eaters, so the use of veritaserum is expected.” Kingsley’s deep, soothing tones failed to disguise the absurdity of the situation. 

“Veritaserum?” Harry stared blankly at him. “Is that even legal?”

“Unfortunately, in cases where the defendants are claiming to have been under the imperious curse, it is a necessary evil.” Kinsley sounded as tired and fed up with all of this as Harry was. 

“That’s an invasion of privacy. They can’t control how much they divulge. It’s unethical!” Harry hissed.

“I know, Harry.” Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but what else can we do? We took a lot of them at their word the last time this happened and a ludicrous number of loyal death eaters walked free. It’s become the standard procedure for any death eaters who try to plead innocent by imperious”

“Use a pensive. Look at their memories.” Harry snapped.

“Memories can be tampered with. Even if they’re genuine, memories don’t show intent or motivation. They would be inconclusive. Which would bring us right back to square one.” Kingsley sighed.

“Veritaserum takes away their free will, it’s just wrong-”

“I know.” Kinsley said harshly. “We don’t have any other options. You’ve avoided all of the other trials, you don’t understand the difficult position the Ministry is in. I personally trained the persecutors in how to question someone under the influence of veritaserum. No new information gleaned from questioning can be added to the charges against them, any and all questions must be strictly relevant to the case, and yes or no questions are greatly discouraged. The defendants are also free to refuse the veritaserum and plead guilty. I’m doing everything I can.”

There was a pregnant pause while Harry mulled it over. It still didn’t sit well with him, but Kingsley had made some valid points.

“I want to take it too.” Harry said adamantly. 

“What?” Kingsley dropped his hand and stared at him disbelievingly.

“If the Malfoys have to take that vile potion, then so do I.” He set his jaw stubbornly.

“There’s no precedent for this.” Kingsley looked at him quizzically. 

“I don’t care.” He replied flatly. 

“It’s unorthodox, but I see no reason why you can’t.” he frowned thoughtfully and Harry felt a small rush of victory. 

The least he could do is make sure that they did not suffer alone. He turned his attention to the entrance to the courtroom as the door opened. A panel of roughly fifty witches and wizards in plum-colored robes filed in and took their seats in the stands. The entire Wizengamot acknowledged Harry with either a quick nod or a friendly wave and he marveled at how incredibly different it was from his last time in this courtroom. 

He had gone from Undesirable Number One to Hero of the Wizarding world, and quite frankly he wasn’t sure which was worse. At least there were no dementors present this time. 

Quiet chatter filled the hall as they waited for the hearing to begin. It set Harry on edge. After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than five to ten minutes, the door opened and all three Malfoys were led in by someone he didn’t recognize in grey robes. All three of them were chained together and Harry wondered vaguely if they all shared a cell. 

They each looked a lot healthier than they had after the battle. Draco had grown his hair out. Harry didn’t know if it was by choice or by force, but he liked it. He looked softer somehow. In place of his usually carefully arranged locks his hair was wavy and slightly tousled. Draco's eyes met his for the briefest of seconds before Draco looked away, flushing slightly. He no longer looked gaunt and the dark circles under his eyes had disappeared entirely. If being held in prison improved his countenance so drastically Harry hated to think of what it must have been like for him during the war. 

When everyone was finally seated, Kingsley stood up to call the trial to order. 

“Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, we are gathered today to pass judgment on the Malfoy Family. The charges are as follows: 

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you are accused of being a marked death eater, aiding and abetting Tom Riddle; alias Lord Voldemort in breaking and entering the Ministry in an attempt to steal a prophecy from the Department of mysteries, of breaking out of Azkaban, and of willingly housing the fugitive known as Tom Riddle; alias Lord Voldemort in your home. 

Narcissa Arae Malfoy you are accused of being a death eater sympathizer and of willingly housing the fugitive known as Tom Riddle; alias Lord Voldemort in your home. 

Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are accused of being a marked death eater, of being directly responsible for harm to students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore. 

Do you wish to accept these charges and proceed?”

“I accept the charges.” Draco spoke first, his voice ringing loud and clear. He looked determined, making eye contact with Kingsley.

“I accept the charges.” Lucius seemed to pale at the admission.

“I accept the charges.” Narcissa said cooly, presenting as unruffled and dignified. 

“Do you consent to ingest veritaserum to ensure that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth is spoken here today?” Kingsley held up a small silver vial and Draco seemed to recoil as if the vial was poisonous.

“I consent.” The Malfoys droned tonelessly together. 

“I consent.” Harry chimed in. Every eye in the room turned towards him and he squirmed uncomfortably. 

“Very well. The court calls Harry Potter to testify.” Kingsley nodded sharply, motioning for Harry to join him at the high table so he could administer the veritaserum. 

Kingsley poured three drops of the flavorless potion on his tongue, giving Harry a wane smile. Harry returned it then took his seat at the witness stand while they waited for the potion to take effect. The entire room was still staring at him and he was just beginning to feel jittery. He wished they would stop. A few moments later, everything that had been worrying him or making him uncomfortable ceased to matter. It wasn’t quite like being under the imperious curse, there wasn’t any of that blissful calm feeling. It was more like his entire perspective shifted so that all of the eyes on him no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was the truth. It was paramount that the truth be told. 

“State your name and occupation for the court, please.” Kingsley asked after the potion had fully taken effect.

“Harry James Potter, Deputy Head Auror.” Harry said flatly.

“Thank you. The Wizengamot may proceed with questioning for the case of Lucius Malfoy.” Kingsley took his seat and looked relieved to be done with the preliminaries. 

“Mr. Potter, if I may, what led you to testify for this trial?” A witch in the front row squeaked. “Your conspicuous absence during previous trials has a number of us perplexed. Why attend this trial in particular ?”

“None of the other death eaters saved my life.” He said matter of factly. It was a fact. 

The entire room erupted into whispers and Harry patiently waited for them to finish.

“I’m sorry, but are you saying that one of the Malfoys saved your life?” A squat wizard on the far right called.

“No. I am saying all three of them did.”

More muttering filled the courtroom and Kingsley had to call everyone to order.

“Am I to understand that you will be speaking in their defense, then?” A tall, thin witch in the very last row asked.

“That is correct.” 

“How...unusual.” She replied. 

Harry said nothing because that was not a question. 

"Tell us about Lucius Malfoy. How did he save your life?" the same witch squinted her eyes at the Malfoys. 

“He actually saved me twice during the final battle. I had lost the wand I was using when I went into the forest to sacrifice myself. Lucius picked it up and hid it for me, then gave it back right before the battle was forcibly moved inside. If he had not recovered the wand for me I would have been defenseless.” He paused as a few members of the Wizengamot exclaimed excitedly amongst themselves. When someone cleared their throat loudly they all fell silent again and Harry continued. “He saved my life again during my duel with Voldemort. Augustus Rookwood tried to hex me from behind. Lucius stopped him and knocked him unconscious.” 

“Before the battle of Hogwarts, how would you classify your relationship with Lucius Malfoy?” A short wizard that reminded him of Professor Flitwick queried.

“In a word, hostile. We had never had a friendly encounter before then. I was properly shocked when he gave me back his own son’s wand.” Harry said with no inflection, glancing at the subject of his answer. Lucius was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. He looked both shocked and hopeful. It was almost comical. 

“So you two were not close, then?” The short wizard looked taken aback by Harry’s answer.

“No.”

“Why do you think he saved you? Twice?” a sultry voice came from the middle of the purple robes masses.

“I don’t know.”

“What is your best guess?” they pressed.

“I believe it was his way of proving his true allegiance. Death eater is not exactly a job you retire from. I believe he did what he could to help me because he felt it was right.” He said firmly.

“Do you think he became a death eater because he was under the imperious curse?” The witch on the far end chimed in again.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I heard Draco tell Dumbledore on the night of his death.” His eyes flicked to the youngest Malfoy. His mouth was hanging open in shock.

“Our records show that Draco Malfoy was alone with Dumbledore on top of the tower until other death eaters arrived.” A bespectacled old witch arched an eyebrow at him.

“He thought he was. Dumbledore and I had just returned from hunting down one of Voldemort’s horcruxes. He ordered me to put on my invisibility cloak and then petrified me so I couldn’t move. Draco didn’t know I was there.”

Shrieks of disbelief and fear at the mention of the horcrux almost drowned out the rest of his answer, but Kingsley once more had to call for order.

“I’m sorry, did you say You-Know-Who had made a horcrux?” a witch in the front asked.

“He made seven of them.” Harry corrected.

“Seven?!” came the echoed cry from multiple Wizengamot members.

“Does this mean he isn’t really dead?!” A shrill voice broke above the rest.

“He is really dead. All of the horcruxes were destroyed before our duel.” Harry assured them.

“How?” One witch asked incredulously. “I didn’t know they were able to be destroyed.” 

“The receptacle for the piece of soul needs to be damaged beyond repair. Basilisk venom and fiendfyre are the two verified methods I am aware of.”

“You destroyed all of them?” A demeaning wizard scoffed from the middle of the crowd.

“I destroyed one of them.”

“Who destroyed the others?” he challenged.

“Albus Dumbledore destroyed one, Ron Weasley destroyed one, Hermione Granger destroyed one, Vincent Crabbe unknowingly destroyed one, Voldemort unknowingly destroyed one, and Draco Malfoy destroyed one.” He caught Draco’s eye and flashed him a grateful smile. Draco returned it tentatively and Harry felt something blossom in his chest. 

“You-know-who destroyed his own horcrux?” A young witch in the back questioned in disbelief. 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He was not aware that he had turned me into a seventh horcrux when he failed to kill me in Godric's Hollow.”

The entire courtroom erupted into chaos and Harry was mildly amused. He had never intended on anyone outside of his small circle of friends knowing he was the last horcrux. Seeing everyone’s intense reaction, however, was somewhat entertaining.

“ORDER!” Kingsley had to use to sonorus charm to be heard above the din of shouting. The only people in the room not on their feet in outrage were himself and the three Malfoys. When quiet finally settled over the Wizengamot Kingsley canceled the charm and spoke in a calm, clear voice. “All questions need to be relevant to the case. We are examining Lucius Malfoy’s crimes. Let’s keep on topic.” 

The mass of purple robes shifted uncomfortably in their seats and silence reigned for the better part of a minute. Draco didn’t look up at him once.

“Do you believe Lucius Malfoy should be pardoned?” An elderly wizard in the front finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He was imperioused during Voldemort’s first reign. When he died in Godric’s Hollow Lucius was not fully released from the curse. Due to Voldemort’s horcruxes he did not die completely but was reduced to something less than human. While Voldemort clung to life, an echo of the curse seeded itself in the back of his mind. It caused him to commit acts or espouse views the real Lucius wouldn’t have. He had Voldemort whispering bigotry and violence in the back of his mind for seventeen years. He can not be held accountable for actions he had little to no control over.” Harry was rather proud of himself. He and Hermione had deduced what had happened only a few nights prior while they were preparing his defense. It explained so much. 

“That will conclude the questioning for Lucius Malfoy’s case.” Kingsley cut off the arguments that were being shouted. “Harry, do you wish to testify on Narcissa Malfoy’s behalf?”

“I do.” 

“Very well. The Wizengamot may proceed with questions regarding the crimes of Narcissa Malfoy.” 

“I’ll go ahead and ask the obvious question, how did Narcissa Malfoy save your life?” A plump wizard who seemed to be enjoying the trial immensely boomed. 

“After Voldemort had killed me in the forest we had both collapsed. When I chose to return, Narcissa was asked to check me over for any signs of life. When she discovered I was alive, instead of outing me, she asked after her son. Upon learning he was alive and inside the castle, she dared to lie to the best legilimens in over a century. If not for her false proclamation of my death, I would have died in the forest twice.” He locked eyes with Narcissa. Her face was stoic, giving nothing away, but Harry could have sworn the corners of her mouth twitched in the smallest hint of a smile.

“When you say you died in the forest, what do you mean? You look alive and well to me.” The demeaning wizard shot at him.

“I had just found out I was the last horcrux and that my last mission from Dumbledore was to die. I walked into that clearing without a wand, ready to die if it meant protecting my friends and the students and teachers of Hogwarts. Voldemort killed me with the killing curse.” 

“How did you survive?” another witch asked.

“I didn’t. When Voldemort killed me he destroyed the horcrux inside of me. I was given the choice to move on or return. I chose to return.”

“What do you mean by you had the choice to-?”

“Keep the questions relevant to Narcissa’s case.” Kingsley interjected.

“My apologies, the question is withdrawn.” The witch looked properly shamed.

“Do you believe Narcissa Malfoy was placed under the imperious curse?” Kingsley asked in hopes of getting the others to focus.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Voldemort needed leverage to force Draco to cooperate. Lucius was in Azkaban and he wanted Draco to take his place.” Harry glanced down at Draco again, He was staring at his hands sullenly, his pale blond hair falling across his eyes. 

“You seem to know an awful lot about what Voldemort was thinking. Why is that?” An elderly wizard with glasses questioned.

“The piece of soul he left inside of me served as a window into his mind. I could tell what he was feeling or thinking. When he was feeling a powerful emotion my scar would burn and I often collapsed from the intensity. Voldemort did not become aware of the connection until my fifth year when he used it to lure me into the Department of Mysteries.” Draco looked stricken at this information and Harry's thoughts flashed back to when Draco had put him down for collapsing in Divination. Was that where Draco’s thoughts were too?

“That’s remarkable. You were privy to you-know-who’s thoughts?” the wizard squeaked.

“Not all the time. Only when he was feeling a powerful emotion.” Harry corrected. 

“Fascinating. Absolutely incredible.” The wizard was staring at him as if he had just discovered something delightful. 

“Let’s get back on track. Did Narcissa help you in any other way?” A severe-looking witch shot the wizard a contemptuous look.

“She killed Voldemort’s most loyal follower, her own sister, during the final battle.” A brief flash of pain spasmed across Narcissa’s face and Harry's heart ached for her. Icy blue locked onto emerald green and Harry was trapped.

“Why do you think she did this?” someone else called but Harry didn’t see who. 

“To save her son.” He replied, still not breaking eye contact with Narcissa. She nodded a curt thank you then released him from her gaze. He blinked rapidly and glanced around. Draco looked like he might have been crying but Harry couldn’t be sure.

“Did you witness Narcissa being placed under the imperious curse?” A wizard from the back row called.

“No, but I did witness the effects. It was obvious she was enchanted.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Narcissa Malfoy?” The severe-looking witch cut across the haughty looking wizard who had opened his mouth to speak.

“Virtually non-existent. Our only direct interaction was in the forest after I came back.” 

“Then how could you tell she was under the imperious curse?” The haughty looking wizard snorted derisively. 

“Have you ever seen someone under an incredibly powerful imperious curse?” Harry countered, annoyance coloring his otherwise flat tone.

“I have.” He sniffed.

“Then you have your answer.”

“Do you believe Narcissa Malfoy should be pardoned?” A young wizard asked in a bored tone, obviously eager to speed the trial along. 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Any action she might have taken in support of Voldemort of her own free will was simply her performing her wifely and motherly duties to the best of her ability. Her loyalty is to her family and she was only doing what she thought was best for them. You can’t fault her for loving her family.” 

Narcissa was covertly communicating with Draco, holding his hand despite the chains.

“That will conclude the questioning for Narcissa Malfoy’s case.” Kingsley called over the dull roar of side conversations being held by the Wizengamot. “Harry, do you wish to testify on Draco Malfoy’s behalf?”

“I do.”

“The Wizengamot may proceed with questions regarding the crimes of Draco Malfoy.”


	14. In which Harry shocks Draco with his observational skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry testifies on Draco's behalf and Draco manages to outsmart veritaserum and preserve his dignity.

“How did Draco Malfoy save you life?” A bored sounding wizard asked without preamble. 

Draco held his breath. What could Harry possibly say? He didn’t remember ever saving his life. Harry had saved him countless times. Nothing could ever erase that debt from his ledger. 

Draco had to laugh at himself. One would think that after spending a year in a Ministry holding cell he would have gotten over his feelings for Harry. There had been zero contact. Draco hadn’t even drawn him since he had been given parchment and a quill. In fact, he did his damnedest to forget all about Harry bloody freaking Potter. 

Now he was defending his entire family? All it took was that brief moment of eye contact when he had first entered the courtroom and it all came rushing back. Learning what Harry had gone through that night oh so long ago… it was heartbreaking. His mind was still reeling from the information that was uncovered during Harry’s defense of his parents. 

“Draco Malfoy helped me the most.” Harry said quietly and Draco’s head snapped up.

What? 

How could that possibly be true? The Wizengamot seemed just as confused as he was. He stared at Harry in disbelief. Then their eyes met and Draco had to remind himself to breathe. No matter how much he tried, Draco couldn’t look away. It was as if those pools of jade and emerald were beckoning, drawing him in. Harry broke eye contact before addressing the Wizengamot. 

“In our fifth year, Delores Umbridge had me and my friends detained. Draco tried to reason with her when she threatened to use the cruciatus curse on me to extract information. His delay enabled Hermione to come up with an escape plan. Afterward, it was confirmed that he let Ginny Weasley overpower him so she could release the rest of my friends.” Harry recited in a professional tone. 

“Delores Umbridge? The head of the Muggle Born Registration Commission? What did she want from you?” A middle-aged witch looked down her nose at Harry and Draco felt a spike of irritation.

“She was Hogwarts High Inquisitor at that time. I was under the impression that Voldemort had my godfather and was torturing him in the Department of Mysteries and I was determined to rush off and save him. I was trying to use her floo to talk to him when she caught us.” Harry replied easily.

“That doesn’t explain why she would use an unforgivable curse on a student.” The same witch snorted derisively.

“We had been at odds all year. She believed I was an attention-seeking, self-serving prick who was trying to undermine her authority. Who could blame her when the ministry was calling me a deranged liar for saying Voldemort was back.” Harry snapped, irritation breaking through his composure.

“Keep the questions relevant to Draco’s case.” The minister boomed, obviously fed up with having to keep reminding the court to stay on topic.

Draco was shocked Harry had noticed his futile attempts to help him that day. He had almost completely forgotten about them himself. 

“You said this happened three years ago, how else has Draco Malfoy helped you?” One brave witch asked after an awkward pause.

“In sixth year I almost killed him in a duel.” Harry’s eyes met his once more and the amount of sorrow and remorse in them had Draco choking up. “He argued on my behalf so that I wasn’t expelled. Later that year, on top of the astronomy tower, he refused to kill Dumbledore. He also unknowingly gave me information that helped me later in my fight against Voldemort.”

“What info-”

“I’m not finished,” Harry said testily. When the wizard who had interrupted him motioned for him to proceed he instantly picked back up where he had left off. “During the war, my friends and I got captured by snatchers and were brought to Malfoy Manor. Draco refused to identify us. When faced with the threat of physical harm he knowingly lied and told Bellatrix Lestrange that it was not us. When ordered to lock us up in their cellar he cut our bindings and told us he would try to help. I confirmed with the prisoners we rescued from that cellar that he consistently snuck food and water down to them and did his best to keep them alive and healthy.”

“What other prisoners were held at the Manor?” A red-haired witch asked curiously.

“Luna Lovegood, Garrick Ollivander, Dean Tomas and Griphook the goblin. Without information from those prisoners, I would not have been able to defeat Voldemort.” Harry’s tone was constricted. Draco marveled at how well he was keeping it together as he was forced to relive such traumatic events.

“When Ron and I broke free,” Harry continued “and charged the occupants of the manor I distinctly saw Draco shoot off stunning spells at the Death Eaters who were torturing Hermione. When we were disarmed he gave me his wand so we could escape.”

“He willingly gave you his wand?” An old, wizened wizard squeaked in surprise.

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t the Elder wand need to be taken by force to change allegiance?” A young wizard in horn-rimmed glasses asked eagerly as if this were a lively lecture on wand lore.

“That’s a myth. A wand’s allegiance can change whether it was taken by force or not. The wand chooses the wizard.” Harry almost looked bored.

“Does this mean that when Lucius Malfoy was in possession of Draco Malfoy’s wand, he became the master of the Elder wand?” The same young wizard questioned.

“Yes. Until he voluntarily handed Draco’s wand back to me.” Harry glanced over at his father and Draco followed his gaze.

His father looked like he was in shock. His jaw was hanging open and awe was evident on his face. 

They both had unknowingly been masters of the Elder wand. They both had handed it over freely to Harry.

The poetic symmetry was almost enough to make him laugh.

“Is that all Draco Malfoy did to help you?” The bored sounding wizard seemed to sigh impatiently.

“No.”

“What else did he do?” He pressed.

“While I was searching for Ravenclaw’s lost Diadem he found me and tried to help me escape before the others arrived. He was worthy of wielding the sword of Gryffindor and destroyed the last horcrux. He stopped Bellatrix from killing two of my best friends and held his own in a duel against her- which is remarkable considering she had previously been dueling, and was on the verge of beating, three talented witches of the same age.”

Draco swallowed hard. When Harry strung it all together like that it sounded so impressive. Harry made it sound like he was some form of unsung hero, but he was nothing. He could have done more. He should have done more. He didn’t deserve to be released. He had earned a one-way ticket to Azkaban when he took the Dark Mark. 

“Do you think Draco was forced to become a Death Eater while under the imperius curse?” 

“No.

Shocked gasps and hurried whispers consumed the cloud of purple before they collected themselves.

“Why not?”

“He was forced to under duress. Voldemort had both his mother and his father at his mercy and he had threatened to kill all three of them if Draco didn't comply.” Harry graced him with another sideways glance and Draco frowned and looked away. 

“Did he tell you that?” the same haughty wizard that had gotten on Draco’s nerves while Harry was defending his parents snarked. 

“No.”

“How do you know then?” He challenged.

“I saw it through Voldemort’s eyes. Draco looked terrified and sick and he still forced him to torture the Death Eaters that had let me and my friends escape the night the Ministry had fallen.” Harry’s voice broke as if he were in pain.

“You saw him torture people?” A severe-looking witch exclaimed.

Ah. There it was. The damning evidence the Wizengamot needed to chuck him into Azkaban. Draco hadn’t realized he had let himself hope, but having it ripped away from him stung. 

“I saw him forced to torture Death Eaters.” Harry corrected her, stressing the words ‘Death Eaters’ as if that made a difference. 

“Do you believe Draco Malfoy should be pardoned?” She asked with evident curiosity.

“Yes.” Harry said almost vehemently.

“Why?”

“He was never given a choice.” Harry suddenly looked at him again and this time Draco was the one who refused to look away. “I know what that feels like. I was also never given a choice in this war. Those who were older or more powerful pulled the strings and we just had to go along with it. In those rare moments where Draco was able to choose, time and time again he chose to do the right thing.”

Draco’s heart soared at his words despite himself. It didn’t matter if he got sent straight to Azkaban after the trial. Harry understood. He understood everything. That fact alone would be enough to keep the dementors at bay for a while. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as oblivious as Draco had thought. 

“Thank you for your testimony, Harry. You may step down from the stand.” The Minister was looking at Harry like a proud father figure and Draco idly wondered what the connection was between them. “The court calls Draco Malfoy to the stand.”

Time to get this over with.

The guard that had escorted them un-spelled the manacles from around his wrist and offered his hand to help him up.

“I can manage, thank you.” Draco stood and walked up to the Minister of Magic without glancing back. 

He passed Harry on the way and they exchanged a loaded look. Draco’s eyes held a million questions, and Harry’s held a million secrets. Draco did his best to commit those iridescent pools of green to memory so he would have something to keep him sane in Azkaban.

He was still thinking about those damned eyes while the Minister gave him three drops of the wretched truth serum. He obediently swallowed, then shuffled over to the witness stand where he sat and waited for the potion to take effect. 

A high pitched ringing filled his ears as one by one his resentments and fears slipped away. He no longer cared what was right or what was wrong. There was no morality, there was only truth. Quite suddenly, the only thing he cared about was sharing the truth. 

“Please state your name and occupation for the court,” The Minister’s deep voice was like a soothing balm.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, d-” he started to say Death Eater but the words were stuck in his throat. His mouth wouldn’t form them. “Unemployed.” He said instead. 

“Thank you. The Wizengamot may proceed with questioning.” The Minister nodded.

“We heard quite a number of interesting things from Mr. Potter just a moment ago, and I’m sure we all have burning questions for you- but what I’m most curious about is how you would classify your relationship with Harry Potter?” A raven haired witch asked from the far left. 

Enemies. Rivals. Longing. Stolen glances. Unrequited love. 

“Complicated.” is what came out of his mouth before he even had the chance to think. 

“How so?”

Draco paused, trying to reign in his thoughts. He refused to confess his undying love for the Savior of the Wizarding World while on trial for being a Death Eater.

“Let’s call it a love-hate relationship.” He said slowly, carefully. 

There! That was the truth. Let them make of that what they will. Of course they would ask the questions that were the hardest to answer first.

“Could you explain further?” The same witch pressed.

“Is it relevant to my case?” He countered, fighting back the word vomit that was threatening to explode from his lips. The potion made him want to confess everything, his frustratingly persistent love for the Boy Who Lived, everything he had sacrificed to keep it a secret, all of the times his feelings for Harry had influenced his decisions- but he refused. He would not give them the satisfaction. 

“I suppose it isn’t. I recant my question.” She eyed him suspiciously. 

“What really happened that day Mr. Potter told us about in your fifth year? Tell us in your own words.” A wizard piped up immediately. 

“Professor Umbridge had ordered us-”

“Who is us?”

“The Inquisitorial Squad. She-” 

“What is the Inquisitorial Squad?”

“A group of students that Umbridge hand-picked to-”

“Why did she pick you, specifically?”

“Stop interrupting him and let him speak for Merlin’s sake.” Harry snapped waspishly. 

The majority of the Wizengamot turned to look at the minister, who shrugged and nodded his head as if to say ‘you better listen to him’.

“Our apologies, Mr. Malfoy. Please proceed.” An elderly witch glared at her noisy compatriots. 

“The Inquisitorial Squad was a group of students Professor Umbridge had picked to aid her in enforcing her educational decrees. I don’t know why she picked the students that she did, but I know why me and my friends agreed to be on it. We had all received orders from our parents to obey and assist her in any way we could.” Draco couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to his father’s stony expression.

Fifty heads swiveled towards where his parents sat still chained together. At least his father had the decency to look ashamed. When the attention came back to him Draco took a deep breath before continuing.

“On the day in question, she had ordered us to patrol the corridors surrounding her office and to detain any student who acted suspiciously. So we did. I had caught Ginny Weasley while Greg, Vince, Millicent, and Theo had captured Harry’s other friends. We brought them to her office as instructed and were told to keep them incapacitated.”

“Why did she want you to keep them under control?” A small, bald wizard raised a nonexistent eyebrow at him.

“She had caught Harry trying to use her floo because it was the only fireplace in the castle not being regulated. She apparently thought he was trying to contact Dumbledore so that they could stage a rebellion and overthrow the Ministry.” Draco made a face at the memory. He had hated every moment that he was forced to obey that toad.

“Why did she think that?” the same wizard quipped.

“She was insane with power. She was paranoid. As Harry stated earlier, she hated him to begin with. Take your pick.” He shrugged.

“Then what happened?”

“She wanted to use veritaserum on him. When Professor Snape informed her that she had already used it all to uncover their illegal dueling club she started weighing the pros and cons of using an unforgivable curse on a student. I tried to talk her down and offer alternatives. She fought me every step of the way until Granger pretended to cry and made up some crackpot story about a weapon being held in the forbidden forest, playing right into Professor Umbridge’s paranoia.” 

“Was there a weapon being held in the forest?” the elderly witch sounded affronted.

“Of course not.” Draco snorted. “Anyone with half a brain could tell Granger was lying, but Professor Umbridge was blinded by greed.”

“Did you let Ginerva Weasley overpower you so she could help her friends?” A witch called from the middle of the mass of purple robes.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Harry was upset. He needed help. I provided it the only way I could.” Draco’s eyes widened at the admission and he felt heat rise into his cheeks. Damn that truth serum.

“What happened in your sixth year?” the same bored sounding wizard from earlier cut off the others questions, clearly eager to keep things moving. Draco was immensely grateful. “Mr. Potter said he nearly killed you in a duel. Walk us through what happened.”

“I was upset over my project for the Dark Lord not going well and Harry walked in on me. I shot a hex at him, missing by a few inches and he retaliated. Things escalated quickly and he landed a curse I had never heard of before. It ripped open my chest.”

“It ripped open your chest?” The haughty wizard scoffed in disbelief. “I’ve never heard of a spell that can do that.”

“It sliced me from shoulder to navel and the next thing I knew I was laying in a pool of my own blood with Professor Snape hovering over me, casting a complicated counter curse.” Draco pulled the collar of his robes down to show the beginnings of a diagonal scar that stretched across his entire torso.

The Wizengamot collectively gasped at the evidence of the damage Harry had caused.

“Do you know what curse he used?” The middle-aged witch leaned forward with interest.

“I just said I had never heard of it before.” Draco snarked. “Why does it matter?”

“If he almost killed you why did you defend him?” The excitable wizard in horn-rimmed glasses called over the voices of his peers.

“I defended him because he didn’t know what the curse would do. He said he had found it scribbled in a book. You should have seen his face when my blood started pouring out of my chest. He was horrified.” Draco risked a glance at Harry. He had a devastated expression on his face as he caught Draco’s eye. Draco nodded infinitesimally in acknowledgment of the apology Harry was wordlessly offering. 

“How do you know all this?” a skeptical voice sounded.

“He came to visit me in the hospital wing. He apologized and explained that he hadn’t meant to kill me. I accepted his apology and moved on.” Draco didn’t bother to look at the Wizengamot. He was still enraptured in Harry’s sorrowful gaze.

“What about at the top of the astronomy tower? Why didn’t you kill Albus Dumbledore?” A stern voice jerked him out of his distraction. He looked over at the mass of purple and sighed.

“I never wanted to. The Dark Lord said he would force me to kill my parents if I didn’t kill him. Of course I chose to save my parents. When the time came and I had rendered him defenseless, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not a killer.” He said simply. He felt a small weight lift from his shoulders as he said it. He wasn’t a killer. That was the truth. Death eater, yes, but not a killer. 

One had to appreciate the small victories. 

“What happened the night Mr. Potter was captured and brought to your home? What were you doing when he arrived?” The stern witch cut in over the mutterings of her cohorts. 

“I was hiding in my bedroom, hoping that the other Death Eaters would leave me alone for just one night. My father came to fetch me so that I could identify Harry and his friends. I recognized Harry right away, despite the stinging curse Granger must have cast on his face. It was enough to keep the others from summoning the Dark Lord, however, so I said I was unsure. When my Aunt forced me to look closer and demanded a definitive answer I lied. It was a wasted effort, she didn’t believe me anyway.” Draco was surprised to hear a hint of bitterness leak through into his voice. He sounded much like Harry had when he was talking about the Ministry smear campaign against him. 

“Then what happened?” the witch pressed.

“My Aunt slapped me around a bit and ordered me to move all of the prisoners except Granger into the cellar.”

“Why did she keep Miss Granger away from the others?” The raven-haired witch chimed in.

“The snatchers had discovered the sword of Gryffindor among their possessions and my Aunt had an aneurysm about it. Apparently, it was supposed to be locked in her vault at Gringotts so she… she tortured Granger to find out how they had gotten ahold of it.” He tensed up as memories of Granger’s screams echoed in his mind. 

“What happened then?” she leaned over the railing with bated breath.

“I did as I was told. I brought the rest of them to the cellar, but I cut their bindings. I didn’t know how, but I wanted to help them. I told them to keep quiet and that I would do what I could.”

“And what did you do?” a middle-aged wizard asked eagerly.

“I returned to the drawing-room where my Aunt was carving… the foul word for muggleborn… into Granger’s arm. I cast pain relief spells as surreptitiously as I could, but it wasn’t enough. Granger was still screaming and there was nothing I could-” he stopped mid-sentence, choking on the raw emotion that had risen in his throat. 

“You tried to help a muggleborn?” One of the witches asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“But you’re a Death Eater.”

Draco said nothing. That wasn’t a question. 

“What happened when Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley escaped the cellar?”

“I tried to stun my Aunt, but I was too late. She had a dagger pressed to Granger’s throat and told them to drop their wands. When they complied she told me to pick them up, so I did. Then our old house elf returned and started unscrewing the chandelier. I took advantage of my Aunt’s distraction and threw Harry the wands. There were three of them and only two wands, so I gave Harry my own so they could escape. My Aunt had summoned the Dark Lord and if they stayed it would have been their death. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” a morbidly curious voice rang out.

“Because then it would have been over. The Dark Lord would have won.” Draco bit his tongue to keep from divulging anything else.

“So you didn’t want you-know-who to win?”

“Of course not. No person in their right mind did.” He scoffed.

“Why did you become a Death Eater?”

“It was the only way to ensure my family's survival. The Dark Lord had my mother and my father under the imperius curse and he threatened to kill them if I didn’t take the mark. When the Dark Lord chooses you to be one of his elite, you can’t refuse.” He stared blankly at the floor in front of the witness stand as an echo of powerlessness washed over him.

“Is that why you willingly tortured other people?” The haughty wizard chimed in.

“Willingly is not the right word.” Draco grit his teeth in anger. “I never wanted to crucio any Death Eater that dared to displease the Dark Lord. Sometimes he would place me under the imperius curse and force me to hurt them. Other times he threatened to do worse to me or my parents to ensure my cooperation. I never willingly did anything the Dark Lord wanted me to do. I did it because I had no other choice.” 

“Why did you grab the sword of Gryffindor during the final battle?” The red-haired witch was alight with a burning interest.

“I had heard Harry telling Granger and the Weasel that Nagini was the last horcrux. The Dark Lord had to be made mortal once more, Harry was presumed dead, Granger and the Weasel were consumed with grief. Longbottom had failed to kill her. I knew I had to do something.” He made eye contact with her. It only seemed to embolden her.

“How did you, a Slytherin, come to wield the sword of Gryffindor? The sword rejects any who are not worthy of it. Only a true Gryffindor can keep hold of it.” She quipped.

“I’m not entirely sure. It was not without difficulty, I assure you. The sword tried to shake itself out of my hands but I only gripped it tighter, focusing on killing the snake. After a brief struggle, it just...seemed to accept me. I don’t know why.” He did his best to phrase it right, but he was just as confused as everyone else in the room.

“Do you think you should be pardoned based on the evidence presented today?” The older witch cut in, bringing Draco’s attention back to the trial itself.

“No.” He said flatly.

“Why not?” She asked.

“I’m a marked Death Eater. None of us deserve to be pardoned. If you pardon anyone, it should be my mother.” 

The entire Wizengamot erupted into cries of shock and outrage. The roar of their voices gave Draco a headache. The Minister had to use the sonorous charm for the second time that day to call everyone to order. When at long last everyone was silent he resumed his seat at the high table.

“Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Malfoy. You may return to your seat.” He said calmly. 

Draco didn’t wait to be asked twice. He was out of the witness stand almost instantly, walking quickly back towards his parents with his head bowed.

He had made it. 

He made it through his testimony without outing himself to the entire wizarding world.


	15. In which we learn something shocking and the Wizengamot takes their sweet time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa and Lucius are asked to testify on their own behalfs. For both of them, it brings up dark memories. Will they survive being forced to lay their souls bare to the courts? And how did Lucius learn that particular secret when Harry barely knows it himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you awesome nerds, it's been a HOT minute since my last update so instead of one chapter, I'm giving you two. The trials were hard for me to write and I'm really glad they're over. They are a labor of love, however, and I am proud to present them! The angst and pining are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better, but it will get better. I promise.  
> If you're just joining the story, Welcome! I'm excited to see you here! I truly hope you're enjoying my late-night musings. If you've suffered through and stuck it out with me this long, words cannot express my gratitude. As always, a massive shout out to my darling beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark. They gave some invaluable feedback on this particular chapter so I hope you appreciate it!  
> Happy reading!

Narcissa reached out for Draco’s hand after their guard had replaced the cuffs on his wrists. She was incredibly proud of him. He had faced his accusers with his head held high and refused to let them bully him. He was truly her son.

“The court calls Narcissa Malfoy to the stand.” Kingsley Shacklebolt said in a serene manner. 

In all of her interactions with the ex-auror she had never guessed he was capable of leading the Ministry, much less that he would do an exemplary job. She was quite pleased that he had assumed and held the position after the war ended. He was quite possibly the most competent Minister they had had in decades. When the guard freed her from her chains she nodded gratefully to him before standing with as much poise as she could manage. 

“Mr. Shacklebolt.” She inclined her head respectfully while still maintaining eye contact as she approached the high table for her dose of veritaserum.

“Mrs. Malfoy.” He nodded back. “May I?” He held up the elegant silver vial for her inspection.

She only looked at it for a second before nodding curtly and allowing him to administer the customary three drops. When he motioned for her to take the stand she did so with her head held high, sitting primly on the edge of the seat. 

Panic bubbled up as she felt some of her free will slip away when the potion began to take effect. The wretched memory of being stripped of her freedoms with one simple curse haunted her and she found it difficult to breathe. Her anxiety subsided somewhat when she found that she was still in control aside from a burning desire to tell the truth. She could handle this. She must. 

“Please state your name and occupation for the court.” Shacklebolt ordered. 

“Narcissa Arae Malfoy, aristocrat, and housewife.” She said smoothly, fighting the vestiges of her panic attack down into submission.

“Thank you. The Wizengamot may proceed with questioning.” He paused, then added in an annoyed tone “I would like to remind the Wizengamot to keep their questions relevant to Narcissa Malfoy’s case only.”

“Mr. Potter shared that you were placed under the imperius curse. Is this true?” The stern witch who had spearheaded the other interrogations spoke up. Narcissa recognized her as Irys Selwyn, head of Magical Law Enforcement.

“It is.” She said somewhat stiffly. 

The limitations of the potion were somewhat shocking. When asked a direct question she was compelled to give a direct answer. She could have elaborated, but the serum only required a yes or no answer for such a simple question. If someone were clever enough and had a quick tongue they could spin a tale of carefully composed half-truths. Narcissa wasn’t sure if she was grateful or disappointed in this little flaw in the potion. 

“Who placed you under the imperius curse?” Irys continued, frowning down at her. 

They had been friendly once upon a time. Narcissa supposed she must be upset to be interrogating someone she had once placed an amount of trust in, regardless of how small that trust might have been.

“The Dark Lord cast the curse himself.”

“When did this happen?” Another witch interjected.

“Three years ago. The Dark Lord was greatly vexed that Lucius and a few others had gotten themselves caught in the Department of Mysteries. In Lucius’s absence, I was the default head of household so I received the punishment.”

Lucius made a strangled cry and she made eye contact with him. Blue held silver until he seemed to understand what she was trying to communicate. It wasn’t his fault. She did not hold him responsible for the atrocities she suffered in his stead. 

“You were under the imperius curse for two years?”

“I was. It was manageable at first. I still had some degree of autonomy for the first year. When I forced Severus to make an unbreakable vow to protect Draco the Dark Lord was...displeased. I lost what little freedoms I had kept hold of. The Dark Lord started forcing me to follow him around like a deranged dog, leaving little time for fighting the curse.” Narcissa struggled to keep her tone even. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about what it had been like. Now she was telling a courtroom full of people. 

“Wouldn’t your sister help you? It's my understanding that she joined you at your residence upon her breakout from Azkaban."

“Bellatrix Lestrange was no sister of mine. She might have been related by blood, but she was not my family.” Her face hardened at the thought. 

“Why is that?”

“She was never a sister. She was a tormentor. Andromeda and I would hide from her when we were younger. If she wasn’t making our lives a living hell she was torturing the family house elves or killing the family pets. Our parents never believed us. They thought we were only trying to get their favorite daughter in trouble. When she went to Hogwarts she only became more cruel, experimenting with dark magic. We were her unwilling test subjects. Then she joined the Death Eaters and our parents were so proud. What little decency she had left was stripped away by the Dark Lord. When he fell, Azkaban made her insane. After the Dark Lord broke her out I hardly recognized her. They invaded my home, mistreated my husband and my son. No, Bella was no sister to me.” Narcissa’s voice wavered and she resented the veritaserum for forcing her to divulge so much personal information. She had never even told Lucius what growing up with Bella was like. 

Lucius and Draco were both staring at her in a mixture of shock and pity and she couldn’t bear it. She had to look away. Her gaze fell on Potter, who had torn his eyes away from her son long enough to give her a sympathetic, understanding look. She wondered vaguely what that boy must have suffered to have such an appreciation for her pain.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Irys’s voice drew her attention back to the Wizengamot. “Let’s talk about what happened in the forest. How were you able to lie and say that Mr. Potter was dead?”

“When the Dark Lord cast the killing curse and Potter had fallen I lost all hope. When he asked me to examine him and confirm his death I was heartbroken. He looked so impossibly young. Too young to have been caught up in the war the way he was. When I discovered he was alive, that it wasn’t over, I was filled with such powerful emotion that I was able to break the curse. It was excruciating. It took all my strength not to cry out.”

“How were you able to break the curse after two years?” A small wizard squeaked.

“It was Draco.” She said simply. “When I realized that there was even the smallest chance to save my son, every fiber of my being fought to do just that.” 

“Why did you lie to the best legilimens in over a century instead of telling him the truth and going to find your son with him?”

“You must be joking.” She leveled the pompous wizard with a hard stare.

“Answer the question.” He sneered.

“He wouldn’t have let Draco live. Even if he did he would have made his life miserable- he would have made everyone's life miserable. He wanted to commit genocide against all of the muggleborns and halfbloods. Once I was free from his control I did everything in my power to bring him down.”

“Do you believe you should be pardoned?” Irys cut the wizard off, much to Narcissa’s relief. 

“I will stand by the Wizengamot’s decision.” She said stiffly. She knew better than to hope.

“That will conclude questioning for Narcissa Malfoy.” Kingsley cut across the mutterings of the crowd. “You may step down from the witness stand, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Thank you. Mr. Shacklebolt.” She nodded curtly, doing her best not to flee back to her family. As she resumed her seat she exchanged a meaningful look with her husband. 

It was almost over. They would be free to return to their cells soon enough.

“The court calls Lucius Malfoy to the stand.” The ex-auror boomed over the still chattering Wizengamot. 

Lucius sighed and held up his wrists for their guard to release him. Once he was free he touched Narcissa softly on the shoulder, pouring as much love and support into that simple gesture of affection as he could. She visibly relaxed beneath his touch and he felt a small sense of relief. He could tell how hard it was for her to share her past with no reservations to an entire room full of strangers. 

The guard gave him a gentle prod and Lucius nodded curtly at him. They were fortunate that Gerald had been the one to escort them today. He was the most sympathetic of all their guards and Lucius greatly appreciated the man. He approached the high table cautiously. He had been on the receiving end of the ex-auror’s wand one too many times. 

“Minister.” He inclined his head respectfully.

The corners of Shacklebolt's mouth twitched slightly in amusement and Lucius had to refrain from sighing in relief. This was possibly their first interaction ever that was not marred by war or openly expressed disdain.

“Mr. Malfoy.” His voice was smooth, almost calming as he held the veritaserum at the ready.

Lucius opened his mouth obediently, swallowing the three drops quickly. He strode purposefully to the witness stand and sat patiently as they waited for the serum to work. It was a strange feeling. All of the things that he thought mattered faded away until only one thing remained: truth. 

“Please state your name and occupation for the court.” The ex-auror sounded bored at this point. 

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy; aristocrat.” He had no control over the words. 

They simply poured from his mouth without any consideration on his part. How in the blazes had Draco managed to be so evasive when talking about Potter? He couldn’t help but feel it was a futile effort. Anyone with half a brain could plainly see how those two boys felt about each other. Did they think everyone went around pining after their enemies? It was laughable. They were taking turns avoiding the other’s gaze at the moment and it was all Lucius could do to not roll his eyes. 

“Thank you. The Wizengamot may proceed with questions relevant to Lucius Malfoy’s case.” Shackelbolt glared pointedly at specific members. 

Lucius was heartened to see the haughty aristocrat that had given the others so much grief shrink in on himself beneath the minister’s gaze. A painful silence ensued and Lucius was slightly amused. Was he really such an imposing figure that no one wanted to ask him a question? At long last, the head of magical law enforcement seemed to overcome her reservations.

“Mr. Potter told us you were placed under the imperius curse during you-know-who’s first reign. Is this true?” She asked loudly, if not confidently.

“It is.” He inclined his head towards her in thanks. He didn’t bother to wait for further questioning that may or may not come, he launched right into the tale of his time with the Dark Lord. “As the head of the Malfoy household, it was my duty to attend the Conglomeration of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. We would meet once a month as needed to discuss business dealings and such. During one of our meetings, we were informed that we had a guest of honor, but that he wanted to meet with us individually. I can’t speak for the others, but when I refused to espouse his childish views...he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Before I was even aware of what was happening it was too late. He was always rather good with nonverbal magic, even in school.” 

“You’re saying he cast the imperius curse nonverbally?” A younger witch asked.

“That is correct.” He tried his best not to sound condescending. 

Was she listening? He had quite literally just told them. He was under the influence of truth serum. Did she think his answer would change?

“Mr. Malfoy, how long were you under the imperius curse?” A wizard on the far right called out curiously.

“It’s hard to say. Originally, I thought it to be only those first eight years. It wasn’t as powerful as the one he had cast on my wife. He wanted me to still act like me, you see. He just planted himself in my brain, affecting my judgment and - ah… political views.” 

“What do you think now?” A raven haired witch asked.

“May I ask for clarification?” He played for time. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. What if he was too conditioned by now to change his views? He couldn’t make any promises, but that was the last thing he wanted to tell the court. 

“You said you had originally thought you were under the curse for eight years. That implies you believe differently now. What changed?”

“It’s something Mr. Potter said in my defense, actually. When the Dark Lord fell all those years ago, when he failed to kill Mr. Potter as a baby, he never truly died. I simply thought that after so many years of being forced to espouse… certain views, they had truly become mine.” He was a little surprised when Potter had used that argument. It was entirely plausible. Perhaps he was not quite who he thought he was for half of his sodding life. It was quite a shock.

“So you thought you were acting of your own free will?” The same witch pressed. 

“I didn’t question it.” He admitted reluctantly. 

“I see. What makes you think the curse didn’t lift the night he was defeated in Godric's Hollow?”

“When the Dark Lord fell, it felt like a fog had dissipated. I was able to think my own thoughts and make my own decisions. I was so relieved at first that I didn’t notice this little pinprick of pressure in the back of my mind radiating hatred and fear. It grew slowly over the years until it seemed to pop four years ago, consuming my mind once more. When the Dark Lord finally died my head nearly exploded. It was like I was having an aneurysm until suddenly I found I could think clearly again. I believe Mr. Potter is right. Since the Dark Lord didn’t fully die that night, the curse was never broken.” 

“That would mean that you were under the influence of the imperius curse for the better part of twenty-six years.” The head of the MLE arched an incredulous eyebrow. 

“That’s correct. I believe I owe my darling wife and my son my sincerest apologies for how I treated them all that time.” He looked over at them as he spoke. Narcissa gave him a curt nod and a small smile of encouragement. Draco was struggling to hide his astonishment. That was one part of his life that the Dark Lord had absolutely poisoned. He was genuinely ashamed of how he had treated the ones he loved most. 

“I’m sure they appreciate that.” A rather stout wizard snapped waspishly. “Tell us about the final battle. Walk us through your thought process when you helped Mr. Potter. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” He stated simply. “I feel that was why it worked. I didn’t even consider my motivation, I just took action. I knew that the Dark Lord had to be defeated if I ever wanted to save my son.”

“So it was the love you have for your son that enabled you to fight the curse?” A honey eyed witch with a kind face asked thoughtfully.

“If you like to think of it that way, yes, I suppose it was due to my love for Draco.” Lucius allowed. He honestly couldn’t say either way. 

“Do you feel you should be pardoned?” The same witch asked.

“I do not.” He said slowly. That was perhaps the hardest truth to voice. “I quite agree with my son, none of the marked should be allowed to walk free.”

“Thank you, Mr.Malfoy. You may step down from the stand.” Shacklebolt cut off the incessant buzzing of the Wizengamot. 

Lucius bowed his head in thanks, walking back to his family as quickly as he could while still appearing calm and collected. He locked eyes with Potter as he passed and Lucius was relieved to find no animosity in the young man's eyes. If nothing else, at least they had the Savior of the Wizarding World on their side.

“That concludes the witness questioning. The Wizengamot will adjourn for deliberations.”


	16. In which Harry struggles to exist and the Weasley's are overwhemingly supportive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is struggling with his demons and feels like the world would be better off without him. The Weasleys, and a certain Slytherin, decided otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I am so sorry that this update is MASSIVELY late. My sister tried to commit suicide and I've been dealing with the shockwave of that. She is living with me now, she's safe and I am here to support her. Hopefully, chapters will start going back to their usual bi-weekly updates now that she is safe and being taken care of!  
> Ok, A few things about this chapter. One: Kreacher. I love love love happy Kreacher! I hope you do too. It bothers me when fics exclude Kreacher like he doesn't love Harry. So I'm fixing that in my fic. Secondly, Zack Gryffin. They are gender fluid and go by the pronouns of they them and their. There is no "big reveal" or oddly placed explanation because there doesn't need to be. Being genderfluid is NORMAL. So I'm treating it like it is. Lastly; Supportive!Weasleys! I love it!! And I hope you love it too.  
> As always, HUGE thank you to my lovely beta readers, AlexClio and SandZhark! They are ethereal deities who deserve to be worshiped.  
> If you've stuck with me this far, thank you so much! Please leave a comment about how long you've been reading with me and tell me your thoughts and conspiracy theories! If you're just joining, welcome! If you like what you're reading, hit that Kudos button and leave a comment! If not, leave constructive criticism! As always, happy reading!

Harry groaned at the knock on his bedroom door. It was much too early to be awake. 

“Master Harry, it is time for waking!” Kreacher’s gravelly voice was somewhat muffled through the door.

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry called, doing his very best not to feel resentful towards the elf. 

It wasn’t Kreacher's fault that he had to go into work at an ungodly hour. It also wasn’t Kreacher’s fault that he had been having a bizarre dream. 

“Breakfast will be ready in the kitchen when you is ready for it!” The elf replied before disapparating with a loud crack. 

Harry rubbed at his face, trying to find the motivation to get out of bed and start the day. If he wasn’t downstairs in thirty minutes Kreacher would be back with cold water. He deeply regretted making Kreacher his alarm clock, but he couldn’t deny that he was a very effective one. 

He looked around forlornly at the faded muggle posters and Gryffindor decorations. During his mania fueled reconstruction project of the rest of Grimmauld Place he had left Sirius’s room untouched. It felt like a disservice to his memory to change anything. Harry heaved a heavy sigh and threw off his covers, stretching his stiff muscles and cracking his shoulders before hopping off the four-poster bed. The room had retained some of Sirius’s rebellious spirit. He knew he would eventually need to update it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to it just yet.

He grabbed his scarlet Auror robes and shuffled sleepily into the en suite. He thought being an Auror would give him a sense of purpose. He thought that living on his own would give him the space he needed to heal. He had been wrong on both counts. He still felt just as lost and broken as ever.

“Not broken, just coping.” he muttered as he turned on the shower.

“That’s the spirit, dear.” The mirror chirped happily. 

Harry ignored it, brushing his teeth as he waited for the water to warm up. The outdated plumbing took forever to deliver hot water. He kept meaning to fix it but always forgot, got distracted, or simply couldn’t find the motivation. He was lucky he had the energy to shower, let alone fix anything. 

Harry stared blankly at his reflection. With his teeth brushed there wasn’t much else to do. He looked haggard. There were dark circles beneath his eyes from all of the sleepless nights and his skin was starting to look pale from never going outside.

At least the outside was beginning to match the inside. 

He had never truly felt normal, but since Fred’s death and the breakup with George, he didn’t feel alive at all. Hermione was busy making a name for herself and spending time with Pansy. Ron was always with George, helping him run the joke shop. Ginny and Neville kept disappearing together.

He was alone. 

No one seemed to notice he was falling apart.

The old pipes protested with a loud screech, alerting him that hot water had arrived at last. He heaved a sigh as he began the monotonous task of getting ready for the day.  
***

Harry blinked as the lift came to a shuddering halt.

“Level two, Auror Headquarters” the smooth disembodied voice announced and Harry filed out with a couple of other wizards. 

He didn’t remember apparating to work or walking through the atrium. He shrugged it off. Losing time had been happening to him a lot lately. He barely noticed when he reached his cubicle and sat down. He did notice, however, his overflowing inbox. Harry heaved a sigh and grabbed the first dossier on top, rifling through it. The paperwork never ended. He would probably be filing paperwork until he died. 

“Morning, Potter!” His partner popped their head over their cubicle, leaning on the wall that they shared.

“Morning, Gryffin.” Harry sighed. 

“How was your weekend?” They grinned.

“Frustrating.” Harry said truthfully. 

“Oh? What happened?” Zack frowned in concern.

“The Malfoy trial.”

“Ah. How did that go? Did they get sentenced?” 

“I thought it went well but the Wizengamot is still in deliberation. It’s not a hard decision, they all aided in the destruction of Voldemort. They should just pardon them and be done with it.” Harry scoffed.

“You know it’s not that simple.” Zack sighed. “Especially that Lucius character. He did a number of shady things before the war even started.”

“He was imperioused.'' Harry gritted his teeth. He was getting sick of having this conversation.

“Alright, alright.” Zack raised their hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, the Wizengamot is going to be reluctant to pardon any of them. Especially the Malfoy men. They’re marked.”

“Not by choice.” Harry said bitterly. 

Zack frowned at him before changing the subject. No one could understand his stark defense of the Malfoys. To be honest, Harry didn’t completely understand it himself. He just knew that it was wrong to send them off to Azkaban when they did so much to help him. 

“Did you see the Devon case? I reckon we should head out there today.”

“I’m buried in paperwork, Zack.” Harry groaned, motioning towards the teetering pile in front of him.

“That’s what you get for not completing it as it comes in. My inbox is empty.” They boasted playfully.

“Great, that means you have time to help me with mine.” Harry quipped.

“On second thought, my inbox is jam-packed. I can’t possibly help you when I’m drowning in paperwork myself.” They intoned dramatically. 

“Suit yourself.” Harry shrugged, turning the page in the dossier in front of him pointedly. 

“Alright, fine.” Zack grumbled, disappearing from their cubicle and walking into Harry’s. “But only because I like your moxie, Potter. Not because you’re the Chosen Auror Who Lived.”

“I wouldn't accept your help otherwise.” Harry snorted. “Seriously, thank you. If we get this all finished today you can pick our next three cases.”

“You have yourself a deal.” Zack grinned.

They worked well together. Zack Gryffin had been his partner since they both joined the force and Harry had grown rather fond of them. They were level headed where Harry was reckless, and passionate when Harry was apathetic. They balanced each other out. Zack was also a genius at paperwork. Harry completed one document for every three of theirs. By the time Zack decided it was time for lunch they were almost halfway through the stack.

“I’m heading down to the cafeteria. You need anything?” They groaned as they stretched, cracking their knuckles. 

“I’m alright. Maybe I can catch up to you while you’re gone.” Harry smiled sadly. 

“You do you.” They shrugged before heading out.

Harry eyed the still rather large pile of paperwork yet to be finished disdainfully. If he had known being an Auror would require so much writing he might have chosen a different career. 

“Harry!” A familiar voice boomed. “Working hard, or hardly working?”

Ron rounded the corner, scarlet robes clashing horribly against his hair. 

“Working hard, unfortunately.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Where’s Zack?” He asked, sitting in the chair they had just vacated.

“They just went down for lunch.” Harry shrugged, placing the document he had just finished on the top of the pile now crowding his outbox. 

“You’re stuck doing paperwork again?” Ron pulled a face.

“It’s never-ending.” Harry sighed.

“Here, I brought you this.” Ron pulled out a take away container, sliding it across the desk.

“I’m not hungry.” Harry said automatically.

“Bullshit. Kreacher stopped by to tell me you hardly ate breakfast this morning. Now eat.” Ron’s glare was impressive. He must have been spending too much time with Hermione.

“You talk to Kreacher?” Harry blinked in confusion.

“We’re all worried about you, mate.” Ron said softly. “Eat.”

Harry sighed and pulled the container closer, popping it open. It was drunken noodles from the Thai place down the street. The once delicious smell made Harry’s stomach churn. He hadn’t been able to eat Thai food since Fred’s death.

“I’m sorry, Ron. I can’t. My stomach’s all wobbly.” He grimaced, pushing the food away.

"Harry,"

"I'm fine. I promise." He smiled as best he could. 

Ron didn't look like he was buying it.

“Come round for dinner at the Burrow tonight. Mum’s making your favorite.”

“Oh, I don’t-”

“I wasn’t asking. All of us are going, even Charlie and Bill are coming out. Bill said he has a big announcement. Hermione and I will pop by yours around six, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry said weakly. 

How was he supposed to survive a whole evening with the entire Weasley clan?  
***

“Oh Harry, welcome home!” Molly yanked him into a bone-crushing hug, planting a kiss on his temple.

He shot Ron a pleading look but he shook his head grimly, shrugging as if to say ‘just let her get it out’.

“It’s great to see you.” Harry gasped when she finally let him go.

“You spend too much time alone in that musty old townhouse. You need to come round more often. You will always have a home here with us. You know that, don’t you?” Molly held him at arm's length. “Goodness, you’re skin and bones! What has that deranged house-elf been feeding you? No matter, I’m making all of your favorites. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it, really.” Harry smiled. 

Apparently, he didn’t make it convincing enough because Molly frowned, rubbed his cheek with her thumb, and kissed him again on the temple. 

“There, there dear. This too shall pass.” She said softly. “Why don’t you go into the den, hmm? I know the rest of the family is dying to see you.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.” Harry nodded, grateful for the chance to escape.

Harry pondered her words as he entered the overcrowded living room. ‘Welcome Home’ she had said. Was this his home? He looked around at the cluster of gingers all chattering excitedly, swapping stories and catching up. 

This was a home. It was a good home. He definitely felt comfortable and welcomed here, but it wasn’t his home. 

The cold hallways of Grimmauld Place flashed in his mind.

That wasn’t home either.

Maybe he simply didn’t have a home. It wouldn’t be the first time he has lacked something everyone else already had. 

“Harry! The man of the hour.” Charlie guffawed, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into the large circle. “Come join us, we were just talking about Bill’s promotion!”

“You got it, then?” Harry grinned at Bill, who had grown his hair back out and was sporting a more inconspicuous diamond stud earring in place of the dragon fang.

“They just let me know this evening before I left.” Bill beamed.

“Congratulations!” Harry gave the eldest Weasley a quick hug. “You deserve it.”

“‘Arry, et ‘az been too long!” Fleur rushed forward, kissing him lightly on each cheek. 

“It has.” He agreed “How have you been?”

“We ‘ave been well. Zank you for azking.” She smiled warmly at him. “‘Ow ‘ave you been?”

“I’m doing fine.” Harry said automatically, avoiding eye contact. George caught his eye and gave him a knowing look. 

“Zat iz good to ‘ear.” Fleur patted his cheek affectionately before allowing Geroge to pull him into a hug.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He whispered in Harry’s ear.

“I know. It’s just...hard.” Harry said softly as George released him.

“I know it is,” George pulled him away from the rest of the family. “If anyone understands, it’s me. You can’t cut yourself off though.”

“How are you doing? I’m sorry I had to miss your birthday.” Harry rested his hand on George’s cheek, searching his brilliant hazel eyes.

“It’s alright, I know you had court. I don’t blame you, I know you would have been there if you could have.” He smiled sadly.

“Oi, I thought you two broke up!” Ron called, popping their intense little bubble.

“Just discussing the pros and cons of getting back together, little brother.” George rolled his eyes, giving Harry a look that told him this conversation wasn’t over.

“What, seriously?” Ron looked flabbergasted and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“We decided you guys couldn’t handle us if we joined forces, you can relax.” Harry shot George a quick wink. 

“We will spare you the overwhelming awesome. For now.” George agreed. “Where’s Hermione? I thought she was coming with you two.”

“She decided she was going to drag her girlfriend along. She’s probably still trying to convince the she-snake to come.” Ron looked personally offended.

“Who is the she-snake?” Percy asked curiously.

Before anyone could answer the fireplace flared bright green and spit out a blushing Hermione and an apprehensive looking Pansy.

“Glad you could make it, Pansy.” Harry stepped forward to greet them. 

He could practically feel Pansy’s nervousness as he gave her a brief hug. She returned it gratefully, hovering between him and Hermione. The Weasleys were all a silent as the grave. You could hear a pin drop. Harry was a little disappointed in the less than warm reception of the Slytherin. 

“I was told my work could wait and that this dinner was much more important.” she said breezily. 

If Harry didn’t know her so well he would think she was perfectly at ease.

“Funny, I was told the same thing.” He feigned shock. 

“What charming company we keep.” She shot him a conspiratorial wink.

“I know, it’s almost like they want to torture us.” Harry was still somewhat baffled by the odd sort of friendship that had grown between them. 

It all started at the Yule Ball so many years ago when she had asked him to dance. It happened slowly after that. A kind word here, a playful interaction there. When she started spending more time with Hermione in sixth year Harry had been happy to include her. After the war, he was only mildly surprised when Pansy started dedicating her time to help him start up the children's center. When it was up and running Pansy had begun volunteering on a daily basis until Harry had just hired her. She was in charge of all of the day-to-day management while Harry continued his work as an Auror. Her vision for the center was surprisingly similar to his own, so it was a convenient setup.

“Well, as long as they’re torturing us together, I think we will survive.” She gave him one of her infamous Slytherin smirks and Harry felt an answering grin spread across his face.

“Right! Now that everyone is here, who wants to play some exploding snap?” Ginny said a little too loudly after a heavy silence. 

Harry flashed her a grateful look and she shrugged as if to say ‘don’t mention it’. The Weasleys eventually warmed up to Pansy and she taught them all a new game called Egyptian Rat Smack. Charlie and George got aggressively into it which only caused the cards to explode more often. When Charlie lost an eyebrow during a particularly volatile round they called it quits.

“Might as well,” Ron sighed. “Smells like dinner is about ready.”

“You’re just miffed because Pansy kicked your arse.” Hermione laughed.

Harry sat back and watched everyone bicker good-naturedly. Even Pansy finally looked at ease. George and Charlie were ganging up on Percy, Pansy and Hermione were harassing Ron, and Bill and Fleur were holding a spirited debate with Arthur about the advantages of muggle technology. He was surrounded by people who loved him and everyone was having fun. So why did he feel so alone? 

“You alright?” Ginny sank next to him on the couch with two glasses of fire whiskey. She handed one to him before sipping delicately on the other.

“Yeah, just tired.” Harry took the glass and gave it a tentative sip. 

“You don’t have to pretend for me, you know.” She said, staring into the distance.

“I don’t-”

“You do. And that’s ok, I have to pretend sometimes too. It’s ok to not be ok.” She looked over at him. “You don’t have to be the hero all the time.”

“I’m not trying to be a hero.” He grimaced. “I never wanted to be a hero.” 

“I know you didn’t, Harry.” 

She said it with so much emotion that Harry felt a lump form in the back of his throat. He wanted so desperately to break down and tell her everything. To talk about all of the darkness eating him up inside. 

“I don’t know, I just-”

“Come and get it while it’s hot!” Mrs. Weasley called from the dining room, causing a mass exodus from the den.

“We don’t have to go. We can just sit and talk.” Ginny said quietly, placing her hand on his arm to stop him from getting up. 

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.” He gave her his best smile. 

“Harry…”

“I’ll be fine I promise.” He jumped up and rushed after the others before she could call him back, downing the rest of the fire whiskey she had handed him. It numbed the ever-present pain in his heart just enough that he might be able to get through this. 

Harry ended up wedged between Percy and George at the table. He couldn’t have asked for more awkward dining partners than his ex and the person who told Ron he was deranged. The fire whiskey kept flowing, however, so he found he was quite easily able to ignore the hesitant pauses in conversation. Before he knew it dinner was over and Molly was serving dessert. She had made an excellent treacle tart and Harry felt obligated to eat some despite the queasy feeling in his stomach. 

“Harry, I wanted to say…” Percy began, turning red in the ears.

“Yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow at his least favorite Weasley.

“I just wanted to… apologize for...I mean, I'm sure that Ronald…”

“Spit it out Perce, you’ll give yourself an aneurysm.” George snorted.

Harry almost laughed until an echo of Fred saying something just similar enough before he died made Harry’s tart turn tasteless in his mouth. 

This is it.

This is why he and George had to break up. It was simply too painful for both of them. They kept reminding each other of Fred. And every time it happened it was an agonizing blow. 

“I was just trying to say that I’m sorry.” Percey huffed.

“Sorry? For what?” Harry blinked, forcing himself to focus on the present.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I wrote Ronald a rather nasty letter when I first got hired on at the Ministry urging him to not be friends with you. I had bought into the Ministry’s cock and bull story about you being a deranged nutter. I was never more wrong in my life and I am sorry.” Percy fidgeted with his fork instead of meeting Harry’s gaze, but the sentiment seemed genuine enough. 

“It’s alright. Ron let me read the letter, and I’ll admit I was pretty angry at the time, but… after the war and everything that has happened since, it just didn’t seem to matter anymore. I never held it against you.” Harry shrugged, accepting a glass of wine from Arthur who had broken out a bottle he had been saving in honor of Bill’s promotion.

“Really? You forgave me, just like that? After I called you violent and unbalanced?” Percy finally looked up, staring at Harry open-mouthed.

“Hating you for it would have been pointless.” He said simply. 

“You’re a good man, Harry Potter.” Percy beamed.

“I try to be.” Harry sighed, taking a sip of the wine. It was a little dry for his taste but still good. 

“Excuse me, everyone! I have an announcement I’d like to make.” Bill stood up and cleared his throat. Silence fell across the overcrowded table and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. “The reason I had you all come here tonight is that we,” he paused and looked at Fleur lovingly, “have some exciting news. You’re all aware I was angling for the promotion I just got. Well, there’s a reason I wanted it so badly.”

“Get on with it, what’s the news?” Ginny scoffed, earning a laugh from everyone.

“We’re pregnant.” Bill looked awestruck as he said it as if saying it out loud had suddenly made it real. 

Fleur giggled at the gasps and shrieks of delight that preceded everyone abandoning the table in a rush to congratulate her. Molly was beside herself, throwing her arms around Fleur and sobbing about beautiful grandchildren. 

“Congratulations!” Harry reached out to shake Bill’s hand as his brothers hooted and hollered, pounding him on the back.

“Thanks, mate. We’re really excited.” Bill beamed, shaking his hand with just a little too much vigor.

The air started to feel rather hot and it felt like he was breathing soup into his lungs as the overjoyed Weasleys all closed in around Bill. He gave Bill what he hoped was an apologetic smile before dodging past the myriad of arms and bodies converging in on them.

He desperately needed fresh air. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. As soon as he was free of the mass of people he made a beeline for the back door, not stopping until he was halfway down the path that led to the field they used for two-on-two Quidditch. 

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice shouted.

He groaned and braced himself for her never-ending questions and concerned glances.

“I just needed some air. Too many people in a small space.” He sighed, not even bothering to turn around. 

“You’re not okay.” It wasn’t a question.

“I will be. I’m fine, I promise. Nothing to worry about.” Harry wondered vaguely if his voice sounded as flat to her as it did to his own ears.

“Sod off, you’re not fine and you know it.” another familiar voice sounded behind him. 

“It’s just- I don’t… I’ll be alright. It’s just hard being around George.” Harry sighed in defeat, turning to face the dynamic duo. 

“Save that shite for the people who will believe it.” Pansy snorted, flipping her pixie cut irritably. “I know a depressive episode when I see one.”

“Only this isn’t an episode, Harry. I’ve been noticing it for years. You can talk to us.” Hermione wrung her hands nervously.

“What is there to talk about?” Harry grumbled evasively, sticking his hands in his pockets in an effort to resist the urge to hex them for simply trying to be good friends. 

“Let's start with Black dying. No, scratch that, let's start with Diggory. If I know you as well as I think I do, you never properly processed his death either.” Pansy said flippantly, matching his tone.

“Fuck off, Parkinson. I don’t-”

“I know you don’t! Are you stupid? No one wants to think about painful things, but you have to in order to heal and move on. So get ready for some tough love, Potter, because apparently, you need it.” Pansy crossed her arms and cocked her head in a defiant stance.

“What she means is that we care about you and want to help you. Please, let us help you.” Hermione stepped closer, reaching out to grab some part of him.

“I don’t want help. I’m fine.” He hissed, stepping back so that he was just out of her reach.

“Why are you all the same?” Pansy huffed.

“I won’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry glared at her.

“You, Draco, Theo. You all insist on suffering in silence and not letting anyone help you. It’s infuriating.”

“Malfoy’s depressed?” Harry was suddenly pulled up short. Visions of Draco over the past few years flashed through his mind. It was laughable that he hadn’t noticed now that he thought about it. 

“How thick are you? He had the Dark Lord in his sodding home! He was tortured mercilessly and forced to torture other people. You literally just told off the Wizengamot over it.” Pansy sneered and Harry prickled at being called thick.

“Sorry if I was a little caught up in my own life. I’ve had my own issues to deal with without having to notice Malfoy’s.” He snapped.

“Good! Now we’re getting somewhere.” Pansy smirked. “What issues could the poor Golden Wanker Who Lived possibly have?”

“Pansy!” Hermione squeaked.

“No, I’m quite sick of it, really. He keeps insisting he’s fine so what problems could he possibly have to eclipse everything that Draco has suffered? I’m dying to know.”

“I don’t have to tell you!” Harry snarled, anger bubbling over and consuming every other emotion in his body. How dare she?

“Go on then, tell me off. Tell me how wonderful and flawless your life is and how hard it is to be perfect.” She challenged.

“My life isn’t perfect.” He spat dangerously. Hermione took a step back and he felt slightly vindicated. 

“Prove it. Precious Potter with his friends in high places. Never having to deal with consequences because everybody worships the ground you walk on.” Pansy nettled and he felt something snap. 

He drew his wand and advanced on her. To her credit, she held her ground. She didn’t even flinch when he pressed his wand to her chest.

“You think my life is perfect? You know NOTHING! You weren’t there when I was getting locked in a cupboard under my uncle’s stairs because something unexplainable happened. You weren’t there when I had to sneak food in the middle of the night because I had asked too many questions and got sent to the cupboard without dinner. You weren’t there when my cousin used me as his bloody punching bag and bullied any of the kids in school who dared to be nice to me. You don’t know what it's like to be despised by everyone in your family and not even know why. You’ve never had to feed your owl what little food you were given and live off the cheap broth for weeks just because you’re magical or be suddenly forced into a world you know nothing about where everyone already knows your name and expects great things from you because of something that you don’t even remember. You don’t understand what it feels like to be attacked by Voldemort twice before you’re even fully aware of who he is or what it feels like to be ostracised by the whole school because you can talk to snakes or fight a basilisk with your eyes closed while your friend’s life hangs in the balance. You’ve never had to fight off a hundred dementors at once before they got the chance to kiss you and the closest thing you have ever had to a parent or be forced to watch a classmate die just because he was there! You weren’t tortured in a graveyard and forced to duel Voldemort on a broken leg or attacked by the daily prophet for telling the truth or forced to use a sodding blood quill! You haven't had to watch all of your friends face death eaters knowing that you’re the one who put their lives in danger! You never had to watch your godfather be murdered right in front of you or be possessed by Voldemort or watch Dumbledore die or be responsible for Mad Eye’s death! You weren’t the reason Draco was forced to torture people or the reason your friends got captured and tortured for information about you! You didn’t have to carry out an impossible mission given to you by someone who only ever saw you as an expendable pawn or face your death wandless because you were the last Horcrux. You didn’t have to watch your first love die in battle or lose the only other person you love because being with him too fucking painful, or - or-” Harry couldn’t go on any longer. 

He didn’t know when he had started to cry but the tears wouldn’t stop now. He lost the ability to form words around the painful lump in his throat and he lowered his wand. He carelessly tossed it aside to pull at his hair, desperately trying to find something else to focus on.

“There it is.” Pansy said grimly. All of her previous venom had leached away, leaving a sympathetic grimace in its place. 

“No! You don’t get it! You don’t wake up every day wishing you hadn’t. Your mind doesn’t constantly tell you the world would be so much better if you weren’t in it or that your friends only put up with you because they pity you. You don’t constantly think about how easy it would be to just end it and put everyone out of their misery, save them the burden of having to deal with you and your issues! Don’t you dare try to tell me that my life is perfect! It’s miserable, it’s worthless- it’s the farthest fucking thing from perfect!” Before he knew what was happening he was being enveloped on each side by a warm embrace.

He was painfully reminded of Fred and George hugging him in a similar fashion when he was having one of his breakdowns and he couldn’t help the sob that escaped from his chest. Pansy and Hermione only held him tighter.

“That’s right, let it out. Get it all out, it’s alright to be upset. You’ve been through hell.” Pansy said softly, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“It’s ok to feel these things, Harry, but they aren’t true. You are the best friend I have ever known and I would be so lost without you. You’re the farthest thing from worthless and I am so sorry you feel that way. It’s okay to not be okay.” Hermione’s voice was constricted as she pressed a long kiss to his temple, holding onto him tightly. “I’m here for you. We’re here for you. We are always going to be here for you.”

Harry didn’t reply. 

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be hugged or comforted. He just wanted to stop existing. Hermione and Pansy needed to feel like they were helping him so he allowed them to whisper empty reassurances for their sake. They didn’t need to suffer alongside him. He let himself weep until he couldn’t anymore.


	17. In which Harry gets fed up with politics and Draco makes a new friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is outraged when he discovers that the Ministry is still holding the Malfoy's prisoner. He makes a desperate last-ditch attempt to reason with the Wizengamot, shocking everyone including himself. Draco struggles with his guilt over being marked, does something mildly embarrassing, and makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! So, this chapter is getting posted early to make up for my brief hiatus this past month. It was a lot of fun to write and I am getting SUPER excited because we are only a chapter or two away from DRARRY!!! Finally! Ugh! I'm sorry this has been such a slow burn but it will be worth it, I promise. As always, a HUGE shout out to my -super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot beta readers, SandZhark and AlexClio! This fic would not be possible without them. If you're stuck with me this far THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭 If you're just joining, welcome! I hope you're enjoying my nerdy ramblings. If you like what you're reading, hit that kudos button and leave me a comment. If you don't like it, leave me a comment telling me what I could do better! At the end of the fic, whoever comments on EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER will get bonus content written especially for them.   
> Happy reading!

“What do you mean they haven’t made a decision yet?” Harry huffed angrily.

“I mean that the verdict is still out. No one has come forward with any indication of a decision on the Malfoy case.” Kingsley sighed, sitting back in his chair.

It had been an entire week since the trial and he had come to Kingsley’s office to see if he had somehow missed the judgment. Apparently he hadn’t.

“Are they meeting today?”

“They’re meeting right now, actually, but don’t you go-”

“Good to know, thanks.” Harry said in a clipped tone, standing up and rushing out of the office.

“Harry! Wait!” Kingsley called but he didn’t care.

How could the Wizengamot be so incredibly stupid? It was an open and shut case. There was overwhelming evidence. He had even testified under veritaserum. What was there to deliberate over?

Harry was fuming the entire way to the council chambers, building his argument in his head. People called out greetings as he passed but he ignored them. He didn’t want to take out his frustrations on innocent bystanders. When he threw open the chamber doors several members of the Wizengamot jumped in surprise.

“Mr. Potter! We weren’t expecting you.” The Head of Magical Law Enforcement greeted him genially.

“This wasn't a planned visit. I’m here because I just learned that you still have not reached a decision on the Malfoy case.” His voice was dangerously calm, but his blood was boiling

“It is a rather difficult case-”

“No, it’s not. It’s quite simple, really. The Malfoy family was detrimental to winning the war. Without their support, we might very well be under Voldemort's rule right now. Any crimes they had committed were circumstantial-”

“The entire war was circumstantial!” someone shot back. “Are you suggesting we release all of the Death Eaters because the crimes they committed happened during the war?”

“Any number of those Death Eaters would jump at the chance to kill me. The Malfoys saved my life. Multiple times. All three of them risked their lives for our cause. If you're going to condemn them for what evil they had done under duress, then cart me off to Azkaban with them. I cast multiple unforgivables during the war. I broke into the Ministry and released prisoners being questioned about their blood purity. I broke into Gringotts and stole a cup from the Lestrange vault. I released a security dragon into the wild. If you’re going to punish good people for the bad things they were forced to do during the war, then do it properly.” Harry didn't care if it was overkill, he just wanted to make them understand.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. The Malfoy men are marked Death Eaters. The public would riot if we just released them.” The same haughty wizard that had ridden his last nerve at the trials snorted.

“You heard their testimonies! Neither of them took the mark because they wanted to.”

“Be that as it may-”

Harry stared helplessly as all fifty some odd wizards all started shouting over one another. It was chaos. The head of the MLE tried calling them to order but no one paid her any mind. After a moment of feeling lost and overwhelmed the pandemonium reminded him of something. They all sounded like angry Quidditch fans!

He put two fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle.

“Oi! No more never-ending deliberations. Either release them or sentence all four of us to Azkaban. If you’re going to ruin their lives despite everything they have done for the wizarding world as a whole, then you’re going to ruin mine too. Make a decision. Now.” He said firmly, crossing his arms in a show of stubbornness.

Silence reigned for an uncomfortable moment before the head of the MLE nodded curtly and cleared her throat.

“All those in favor of clearing the Malfoy family, and apparently Harry Potter, of all charges please raise your hand.” She said smoothly, raising her own hand.

Harry’s head whipped around the room and hope blossomed in his heart when he saw it was an overwhelming majority.

“And all those opposed, please raise your hand.”

Roughly seven hands hit the air and Harry almost laughed.

He couldn’t believe that had worked.

“A verdict has been reached, the Malfoys are cleared of all charges. I will write up the paperwork and get it pushed through before the end of the day.” She said in a crisp tone. “Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Potter, I would like for us to get back to the matter we had been discussing before you exploded into the room.”

“Right, thank you. I appreciate it.” Harry said quickly, bowing out of the room as fast as he dared.

“Oh, and Mr. Potter?” She called him back before the door could close and he swore softly.

“Yes?” He poked his head back in.

“If you truly care for the Malfoy’s well being, as you seem to, I suggest holding a press conference and sharing with the public the reason behind their release. Unfortunately, Mr. Farley is correct and there will be mass outrage for letting two marked Death Eaters go free.” She frowned at him as the rest of the room broke out into hushed whispers.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He hated talking to the press.

“Of course, that’s an excellent idea.” He conceded.

“The sooner the better, Mr. Potter. Before they get wind of the release and print their own version of events.”

“Right. Thank you.” He took a deep breath before closing the door behind him.

He really hated politics.  
***

Gerald tossed the day's Daily Prophet into Draco’s cell with a self-satisfied grin.

“You might like today’s featured story.” He looked like a cat that had caught the canary.

“More cries for our death?” Draco sighed, picking the paper up with an air of disinterest.

“More or less.” Gerald smirked as he pulled out another copy from his modest grey guard robes.

He slid it through to his mother’s cell and then disappeared, Draco could only assume, to deliver one to his father. That was unusual. He didn’t normally buy them each a paper. Draco unfurled the pages and gasped at the headline.

**_Savior of the Wizarding World Calls for Release of Malfoy Family_ **  
_In an exclusive interview, Harry Potter opened up about his stark defense of the notorious Malfoy family. He was seen attending their hearing one week prior, causing quite an uproar. He had adamantly refused to comment- until now. He shared in a shocking turn of events that he had, in fact, spoken in their defense at the trial._  
_“All three Malfoys saved my life, and they deserve to be pardoned.” Harry states rather vehemently. He goes on to detail all of the ways the aristocrats defied you-know-who and how they saved his life. (continued on pg 7)_

Draco’s fingers crinkled the paper as he frantically turned to page seven. Harry had told the press everything. They had discussed what Harry had said in their defense at the trial and then some. The article even held quotes from each of their own testimonies. Granger was also cited as sharing details he had previously been unaware of to clear their name. Harry had even gotten Luna Lovegood to collaborate, adding her story of what it was like being held prisoner in their cellar. She insisted that none of them had been cruel to her personally, and she even shared how Draco had done what he could to take care of her and the other prisoners. Draco almost died when he reached the end of the article. Harry ended the interview by challenging the Ministry. He claimed that he had done some questionable things during the war, just like Draco and his family. If the Ministry decided to send them to Azkaban Harry said they should send him as well. He had rather eloquently argued that if they insisted on punishing good people for the bad things they had done in such uncertain times then they should do it thoroughly.

It had ended up being nearly three full pages and when Draco was finished, Gerald was back.

“Pretty good, eh?” He winked. “I ‘reckon you’ll be released any day now. There isn’t any way they would put Harry Potter in Azkaban.”

“Do you know why he did this?” Draco was astonished.

“Way I heard it, he was in a towering rage yesterday. Several people saw him storming into the council chambers while they were in session. After that, we were told a verdict had been reached on your case, but they wouldn’t tell us what it was. I imagine they wanted to get this article out first to minimize the scandal of letting two marked Death Eaters go free.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Draco whispered, sitting back against his headboard.

He shouldn’t go free, he knew that. Now that it was a very real possibility, however, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to chat with his mother about the article and the likelihood that all three of them would be granted freedom, but he knew better than to push his luck. Gerald had risked enough giving all three of them a Daily Prophet. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to focus on anything so he contented himself with dreaming of what it would be like to be truly free.

As it happened, freedom was granted to them the next day. There were stipulations, of course. They could never hold a position in the Ministry, they had to have an inspection every couple of months to make sure they weren’t tempted back into their old ways, they would each be expected to do four hundred hours of community service, and so on. All in all, there was nothing that was too constrictive or unjustified.

It took ages to go over the terms and conditions of their release in the Minister's stuffy office. Draco had never imagined being pardoned would entail such copious amounts of paperwork. When they finally exited the Ministry he half expected to see Harry waiting to greet them after the intense emotion displayed in the article. He found Pansy, and oddly enough, Granger waiting for them instead. He had to admit that he was a little surprised. He thought Pansy had been having him on when she wrote to him about getting together with Granger.

“Oh, Draco!” Pansy rushed forward, leaving Granger to greet his parents as she enveloped him in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

After a year of zero physical contact, Pany’s hug was overwhelming, but it was also so utterly and completely Pansy that he allowed it. He had missed his best friend more than words could say.

“I missed you, Pans.” He said softly, returning her bear hug with one of his own.

“Oh, I have got so much to tell you!”

And just like that, Pansy was off. She was talking a mile a minute and Draco couldn’t hope to keep up, but he smiled warmly and nodded whenever she paused for breath which seemed to be enough. He could hear Granger speaking pleasantly with his parents and Draco felt like everything might just be alright.

“Harry wanted to be here, but he had a work emergency. Apparently, this was the only possible time to catch the thief they’ve been after.” Granger said apologetically.

“Not to worry, Miss Granger. We didn’t expect to be honored with his presence today. We are gratified enough to be in yours.” his father said charmingly, wrapping his arm around his mother’s waist.

“I’m happy to be here.” Granger smiled warmly and Draco was caught only slightly off guard.

It was one thing for her to be there in support of Pansy. It was odd that Granger seemed genuinely happy to see all of them.

“I’m afraid we owe you a rather large apology, Miss Granger.” His mother said softly. “I am truly sorry for not stopping my sister-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Mrs. Malfoy. You weren’t exactly in a position to help.” Granger’s expression grew somber, yet still soft somehow. “I don’t hold anything against you. In fact,” she glanced curiously at Draco “as I understand it, you helped me as much as you were able to that night. Thank you for that.”

“I couldn’t just stand there and watch you get tortured.” Draco sighed. “I did so little in comparison to what I should have done.”

“You did what you could under the circumstances, and I am grateful.” She waved him off as Pansy rejoined her and took her hand. “Pansy and I wanted to take you out for lunch while we discuss immediate plans for getting you reintegrated into society.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you.” his mother smiled at the two girls.

They took them to a muggle establishment that was off the beaten path and Draco stole glances at his father. Out of everyone, he would have the most issue dining with muggles. He looked perfectly at ease, however, and Draco relaxed.

“This is a quaint little place, isn’t it?” His father marveled as the hostess showed them to a large booth and took their drink orders.

“It’s one of Harry’s favorites. It was the only way I could convince him to drop by after the raid.” Hermione blushed.

“Mr. Potter will be joining us?” His mother asked conversationally.

“If he decides to show up.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Draco hoped he didn’t sound too interested.

“He hasn’t been the best about keeping plans lately. He spends all his time locked up in that dusty old townhouse.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not so dank and musty anymore. He’s been renovating it.” Granger shot Pansy an amused smirk.

“Do you make plans with him often?” his father questioned.

“Often enough. I’m only running his children’s center for him.” Pansy said sourly, but Draco could see the pride behind the statement.

“Oh yes, what was it called? The Black Center?” His mother chimed.

“The Lupin-Black center. Harry started it so that children whose parents died or were rendered incompetent during the war had a place where they would be loved and welcomed. We have on-site housing and daily programs for the kids. When school is in session we provide primary schooling for those who are too young to go to Hogwarts. Harry out-did himself. It’s truly a genius system!” Pansy gushed, clearly passionate about her job.

“Don’t give me too much credit, you’ve put a lot of work into it too.” An achingly familiar voice sounded behind him and Draco dropped his menu.

“Harry! You made it!” Granger cried, hopping out of the booth to envelop him in a hug.

“You’re filthy, what on earth have you been doing?” Pansy scoffed.

“Everything went sideways on the sting and I ended up caught in an explosion.” Harry said, finally coming into his line of sight. His scarlet Auror robes were coated in dust and he had dirt smudged all over his face, yet he still managed to look appallingly handsome.

“Are you alright?” Granger asked in concern as she sat back down next to Pansy.

“Fine, just a bit sore.” Harry shrugged, then grimaced before peeling his robes off to reveal casual muggle clothing. He shrank his robes with wandless magic and shoved them into his pocket, glancing around surreptitiously to make sure he hadn’t been seen.

“Trust you to be in the thick of the danger.” Pansy admonished, gesturing for him to slide into the last empty seat.

Right next to Draco.

“I can’t stay, I have to go clean up and finish replacing the piping-”

“Shut up and sit down, Potter.” Pansy snapped, pointing at the open seat and glaring at him. “Those pipes will still be there when you get back.”

To everyone's surprise, Harry complied.

“You’re bossier than Hermione, you know that?” He sighed in defeat, sitting so close Draco could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “Sorry for my tardiness, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." He finally acknowledged them, then turned his head to cast him a sideways glance. “Draco.”

“Not at all, Mr. Potter. We more than understand that work comes first.” his mother said kindly. “We are merely grateful for your presence at all.”

“Please, call me Harry.” He said as a server came with their drinks.

“What can I get for you?” the server asked, eyeing the dirt on his face disdainfully.

“I’ll have a coke, and I’m ready to order if everyone else is?” He looked around the table.

“You get the same thing every time. Branch out, live a little. Try something new, Harry.” Pansy snarked, picking up her own menu to study it.

“Why can’t I get what I know I like?” Harry challenged.

“You might like something else. You’ll never know unless you try.” Granger chimed in, sharing a smile with Pansy who mouthed something that looked disturbingly like ‘good girl’, but Draco didn’t want to be sure.

“I’ll be back with that coke.” the server backed away awkwardly.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with this... cuisine. Perhaps we could all order something different and share it family style. That way we all get to try new things.” his father suggested as he glanced over the menu.

“What a great idea, Mr. Malfoy.” Pansy smirked.

“We’ve all survived a war and have been through quite a lot together. I must insist you all call me Lucius.”

“Likewise, I would be delighted if you called me Narcissa. ‘Mrs. Malfoy’ sounds dreadfully formal.” His mother leaned forward and smiled conspiratorially.

“I don’t think I will, if it’s all the same to you, mother.” Draco smirked.

“Oh hush, you. I meant all of your friends.” She swatted at him playfully.

It seemed to relieve some of the tension as his father and the girls laughed. Harry was busy trying to rub the dirt off his face, using his spoon as a mirror.

“For Merlin’s sake Potter, here, let me help you.” Draco sighed, pulling his napkin off the table and dipping it in his water.

He placed one hand under Harry's chin to hold him still, using the other to clean the grime off of his face. About two seconds in he deeply regretted his rash decision. It was absurdly intimate and he willed himself desperately not to blush. When he was done he put as much space between them as possible in such a crowded booth.

“There. That’s much better.” He said somewhat lamely, looking anywhere but at the five sets of eyes that were no doubt staring at him incredulously.

“Er, thanks.” Harry sounded perplexed.

“What on earth is a chili relleno?” his mother asked, drawing the attention away from him. He shot her a grateful look and she smiled back.

“It’s a green chili pepper stuffed with minced meat and coated in eggs and cheese.” Granger answered automatically.

“It’s good to see some things never change.” Draco grinned. “Granger still an insufferable know it all.”

“I prefer to think of it as sharing my vast amounts of knowledge with the less academically inclined.” She sniffed.

Harry laughed first, and soon the rest of their strange little group joined in. The atmosphere at the table became much more relaxed after that. By the time the server came back with Harry’s strange, bubbling drink they were all ready to order. Harry even went as far as to order them all something called a margarita, which was apparently a staple of Mexican dining.

With the help of the margaritas and Pansy and Hermione's combined efforts, they all soon became much more comfortable. Laughter punctuated the air frequently as light-hearted banter was exchanged. It wasn’t until the food came and everyone had already divided their dishes that the conversation strayed to more pertinent topics.

“Harry, we really can’t thank you enough for coming to our aid. We are not foolish enough to think that we had any hope of release without you. Words can not express how grateful we are.” His mother reached across him to place a hand on Harry's forearm.

“Indeed, we are heavily in your debt.” His father agreed.

“You’re good people. You don’t owe me anything. In fact, consider it payment for my debt to you for saving my life during the war.” Harry waved him off, brushing Draco ever so casually with his arm.

He really wished his heart would stop beating so erratically. Surely everyone at the table must be able to hear it.

“We can’t. Or, at least I can’t." Draco paused, uncomfortably aware that everyone was looking at him. "I only helped you because I wanted to try and balance the scales, make up for all the bad I had done. No amount of good deeds will ever counterbalance my part in the war. Or taking the dark mark. When you killed him you freed me from a life of pain and servitude. Then you go and revoke what I felt was deserved penance. I am eternally indebted to you and there is nothing I can do to ever even the score.” Draco played with his straw as an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“I wouldn’t have been able to kill him without you.” Harry said softly.

Draco chanced a glance over at him and was instantly trapped in a kaleidoscope of jade and emerald.

“I’m sure you would have managed without me.” He said weakly.

“I might have done, but it certainly would have been much harder and the death toll would have been much higher.” Harry insisted. “You refused to identify us, buying us time to get out of there, at great cost to yourself. You took care of the people your Aunt and the others were holding hostage in your cellar, you tried to help Hermione while she was being tortured. You gave me your wand, leaving yourself defenseless in the face of Voldemort’s wrath-” Draco and his parents flinched involuntarily “You tried to save me in the room of requirement-

“And if I remember correctly, you’re the one who ended up saving me.” He snorted, trying not to think of Fiendfyre.

“Fair enough. That doesn't negate the fact that when you realized that he had made horcruxes, you helped me destroy the diadem and you succeeded in killing the snake, making it possible for him to even die in the first place. Then, to top it all off, you dueled your own aunt to save three of my best friends-”

“Three?”

“I count Pansy as one of my best friends these days. You have a lot to catch up on.”

“It seems I do.” He said softly, still held captive by his damned veridian eyes.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted that out loud.” Pansy popped their intense bubble, for which Draco was equal parts grateful and annoyed.

“Admitted what?” Harry looked over at her, appearing mildly lost.

“That I’m one of your best friends.” She smirked.

“Oi, sod off. She was my best friend first.” Draco whined, earning a roar of laughter from Harry, Granger, and his father while his mother chided him for his language.

“I can be both of your best friends.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Potter’s already got two, and I’ve only got you.” He pouted.

“Well, now you have two.” Granger said matter of factly. “I mean, I basically picked you up from prison. That definitely falls under the best friend category.”

“There, see? Now that THAT is settled…” Pansy chuckled.

The conversation fell back into a seamless balance of harmless teasing and plan making. By the time dessert came around (something called sopapillas), they had living arrangements all sorted. His parents would return to the manor, but Draco couldn’t bear it. Those walls only held memories of pain and misery for him now. Granger had offered to help him house hunt so that he could get his own place, which was rather unexpected but not altogether unwelcomed. For the next few nights, they would all be staying with her and Pansy until they could go shopping and get some fresh clothes and necessities.

Harry took care of the bill before anyone else could blink, taking his leave shortly after. The rest of them apparated together to a handsome villa in the countryside. He shot Pansy a quizzical look. It wasn’t really her style, but she just smiled and nodded for him to go inside.

“Oh, this is much more you.” Draco breathed as he entered a grand entryway with a spiral staircase dominating the room.

“Do you like it? We designed it ourselves.” Hermione smiled. “I originally protested the extravagance, but Pansy talked me into it.”

“She’s good at that.” Draco grinned.

“I can show you to your room, Lucius, Narcissa.” Pansy motioned for them to follow her up the stairs while Hermione grabbed Draco’s hand.

“I have the perfect room for you.” She beamed, pulling him through a maze of archways and beautifully decorated rooms. “It’s just off the kitchen here and has a lovely view of the pond out back. It isn’t the sea, but it should do.”

“How did you know I love the sea?” He asked quizzically, allowing her to lead him into a beautiful guest bedroom with white floors, cream-colored furniture, and turquoise walls.

“Pansy.” She gave him a look that said he should have guessed as much.

“I might have known.” He nodded his head genially. “Thank you, Granger.”

“Hermione.”

“Right. Thank you, Hermione.” He smiled, sinking gratefully onto the queen mattress.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. There is a broom cupboard outback. If you go flying, keep it close to the house. Our muggle repellant charms aren’t at full strength right now.” She patted his shoulder affectionately before leaving him alone.

All in all, not bad for his first day of freedom.  
***

Had Draco known what a pain real estate shopping with Hermione would be he might have refused to go. She was painstakingly thorough, even on the places Draco already knew he wouldn’t want. Her attention to detail stretched what should have maybe been a two-day venture into a five-day tour around the coastal towns of Britain.

They did have fun, he supposed. There were numerous bonding opportunities as they traveled across the continent together. There were quiet moments shared on a pier, a few night time excursions to famous pubs, and a convenient carnival that they were able to visit. Draco had never been to one before. It was a fantastic experience. They even shared stories from their pasts; tragic backstories Hermione called them. By the time he settled on a modest bi-level beach house on the coast of Rye, he felt he could honestly call Hermione Granger a good friend, if not one of his best friends.

It was strange, he reflected, that he would end up being friends with Hermione. No stranger than Harry Potter being friends with Pansy, he mused. It was certainly less strange than Pansy and Hermione falling in love, yet here they were.

It was funny where life had taken them.

Draco carefully turned the page of the muggle novel Hermione had insisted on buying for him. He found muggle literature quite strange. What it lacked in wizarding traditions and any accuracy with magic, it more than made up for in imagination. The hour was growing late, but he was only a few chapters from finishing a riveting tale about a man who turned into another, more evil, version of himself without the use of a curse or polyjuice potion. He might as well stay up and finish the book. He had to know how it ended.  
***


	18. In which Draco finds a new hobby and Harry gets defensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy and Ron hatch a plan, Draco explores a new medium and Harry gets drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long to upload. The holidays are surprisingly time-consuming. If you're stuck with me this far, thank you! If you're new, welcome! As always a shout out to my darling AlexClio for beta reading the shit out of this fic, and to SandZhark who has been trying to beta this fic but ran into technical difficulties for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Pansy’s heart spiked in trepidation as she spied flaming red hair at the bar. She was willing to bet Salazar’s baggiest testicle it was a Weasley. They were tolerant of her to an extent for Hermione's sake, but she could tell they still didn’t trust her. She didn’t think she could handle walking on eggshells tonight. Her last nerve had been frayed by Draco talking her ear off about Harry. She understood that he hadn’t had a soul to talk to for a year, but she was done for the day and in desperate need of a drink.

As she approached the bar she cursed her luck. It was the Weasley. She hadn’t directly spoken to the man since the gala where he seemed to think she had stolen Hermione from under his nose. Apparently he had been harboring a soft spot for her all these years and had been planning on making his move that night. The thought of him ever being worthy of such a goddess was laughable, but he seemed to think Pansy was the only reason they weren’t together. He had even managed to avoid her at Bill and Fleur’s announcement party, which was an impressive feat considering the limited space. 

She briefly considered leaving and just finding another bar, but that would take effort she simply didn’t want to expend. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. There was nothing for it.

“Fancy running into you in a Muggle bar.” She said in a voice that sounded much braver than she felt. 

“Parkinson?” Ron asked incredulously over his beer. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding. From Draco.” She admitted with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from Harry.” Ron shook his head in an amused sort of manner. 

“Seems we are in the same boat, then.” She smiled tentatively. 

“Why are you hiding from Malfoy? I thought you two would be inseparable now that he’s free.” Ron glared at the last few ounces of his beer in his mug as if it had offended him.

“He just won’t shut up.” Pansy huffed, signaling the bartender for service. “He was never particularly loquacious, but now that he hasn’t had anyone to talk to in over a year it’s like the dam broke and he just can’t help the word vomit that comes pouring out of his mouth.”

“I know what you mean.” 

“You do?” Pansy took a grateful gulp of her mixed drink as soon as the bartender set it down, already placing an order for a second.

“Harry didn’t use to talk too much, but now that Malfoy’s free he’s always going on about him.” Ron grimaced, finishing off his beer and ordering another. “It’s like sixth year all over again.”

Pansy almost choked on her drink at this revelation. 

“You’re talking about Harry going on about Draco?” She asked just for clarification.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Ron scrunched his eyes up in confusion and Pansy resisted the urge to smack him. 

“Idiotic Gryffindors, I swear.” She muttered. “Draco has been going on about Harry too. So if Harry is going on about Draco and Draco is going on about Harry...” She arched her eyebrows at him encouragingly. 

“Then they’re going on about each other?” Ron blinked at her. She bit back a laugh when the comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Oh. They’ve got...they’re not… attracted to each other?”

“I knew you’d get there! Excellent. Now,” Pansy rubbed her hands together and leaned in closer to the redhead “we need to devise a way to get them together. It will make them both happy and finally shut them up.”

“You’re barking.” Ron shook his head, then stopped. 

A thoughtful look crossed his expression and Pansy tried to fix that in her memory. It wasn’t every day Ron Weasley looked thoughtful. 

“Am I though?” Pansy smirked, sipping her drink. “Think about it. Over the years, other than you and Hermione, who is the one person Harry spent the most time worrying about?”

"Sirius." Ron replied immediately. "Or the twins."

"They don't count, numbskull." She rolled her eyes. "Who else in our year?"

“I guess that would have to be Malfoy, then.” He shrugged.

“Why?” she pressed, wanting him to come to the same conclusion as she had all on his own.

“I don’t know, he’s always been a bit obsessed with him. Rivalry maybe?” 

“Or…?” She prompted. She knew Weasley wouldn’t accept it if he didn’t figure the truth out for himself. 

“Or he hates him?” He cast a sideways glance at her as he chugged half of his brand new beer in one go.

“Ah, but there is a very fine line between love and hate.” She sang before finishing off her second Jameson and cranberry. 

Apparently she had some catching up to do. Weasley had 4 empty glasses next to his elbow and she was not about to be out-drank by a sodding Gryffindor. She looked around hopefully and caught the eye of the bartender. She nodded at her when Pansy held up her glass and two fingers for a double refill. When she looked back at Weasley he was looking thoughtful again. His face progressed through a myriad of emotions before settling on incredulous and dumbfounded.

“Blimey, he’s in love with Malfoy.” Ron was staring blankly at the back of the bar.

“Finally, he gets it.” Pansy smirked. “Are you up for some scheming?” 

“I suppose so.” He shrugged.

“Perfect! Get comfortable, next round is on me. We are going to hatch a plan tonight.”  
***

Draco frowned at the set of pencils Pansy had bought him as a welcome home present. They were excellent quality and he would normally be thrilled, but he just couldn’t bring himself to draw with them.

He couldn’t bring himself to draw at all. 

Any time he sat down and tried to coax a picture from his brand new sketch pad, courtesy of Hermione, nothing would come. There was no desire to even draw his favorite subject. Memories that he had tried to bury would always float to the surface. The war haunted him like a relentless phantom. He glared around the room, hoping to find inspiration. 

He was still staying with Pansy and Hermione until he could get his own home set up and livable. Both witches had been overly gracious, insisting that they didn’t mind housing him for the past couple of weeks. He counted himself lucky to have such wonderful friends. The area he had chosen was decidedly muggle and the house was tainted with their odd little contraptions. When Hermione had gone with him to receive his new keys he had been startled when she touched the wall and flooded the room with artificial light. All of the buzzing and low frequency humming grated on his nerves.

Pansy and Hermione had somehow melded magic and muggle technology seamlessly into their home, and the magic seemed to negate the painful soundwaves of the electricity, he simply wanted no part of it. He had to admit that he felt strangely at ease here, but he still wanted all traces of electricity removed from his house before moving in. Although it had taken a bit longer than anticipated, they had finally finished gutting all of the wires and placing the necessary charms to compensate for it two days ago. All that was left was to furnish it and move in.

Draco had let Pansy tag along while he went furniture shopping and she provided some surprisingly helpful insight. They had spent the entire day looking at sofas and bed frames and end tables yesterday, and with Pansy’s help, they had found everything he needed. He had arranged it so that everything would be delivered to his beach house in Rye by the end of the week. Draco wasn’t sure if the feeling in his chest, like he had eaten ice cream much too fast, was excitement or dread. 

Starting over, moving somewhere new- it was terrifying.

He had always lived at the Manor. It was where he grew up. Yet whenever his thoughts strayed to his childhood home they turned sour at the remembered pain. He had gone to visit his parents a few days prior at the Manor. 

That had been a mistake. 

The moment he crossed the threshold he had been consumed by panic. He could still feel remnants of the Dark Lord’s presence. It clung to the walls and seeped out of the floorboards like a particularly stubborn fungus. He could almost smell the pungent stench of dark magic, erasing any fond memories he might have had.

Draco frantically cast about for something to distract him from this dangerous line of thinking. His eyes fell upon an empty canvas propped up on a handsome easel. Painting was Pansy’s latest interest. She had a habit of flitting from hobby to hobby as the fancy struck her. She dabbled in just about everything, but she kept cycling through her favorites as her main mediums; writing, painting, and photography. Draco had never tried any other form of art. He had always been content with just drawing. Perhaps it was time he branched out.

Pansy had left out her oil paints, so that is what Draco used. He had seen her mix linseed oil with the tubes of bright pigment in the past, so that’s what he did. It only took him a few tries to achieve an acceptable consistency and he was rather proud of himself. Once he had a pallet made up of his desired colors he found it incredibly easy to lose himself in the craft. He channeled all of his overwhelming emotions into each stroke, not even paying attention to the painting as a whole. He could only see the section of canvas that his brush touched. Apparently, he had lost track of time, because when a voice sounded behind him the sun had moved drastically across the sky just outside of the bay windows. 

“Bloody hell, I leave you alone for one day and you break into my art supplies.” Pansy’s voice was amused so he didn’t bother to look half as contrite as he perhaps should have.

“You left them out.” He sighed, placing the brush he had been using in the jar of now black rinse water.

“I know.” She smirked knowingly at him.

“You wanted me to find them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“You haven’t been drawing.”

“So you decided to tempt me with oil paint?”

“I was going to leave out some marble and sculpting tools next if the canvas didn’t catch your attention.” She shrugged unrepentantly. 

“Why?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion. He couldn't remember ever expressing any interest in sculpting. 

“You’re an artist, Draco.” She said as if that explained everything. When he stared blankly at her she rolled her eyes but deigned to explain herself. “Your art has always been the best part of you. Even after you took the mark you never stopped drawing, not until that last year when everything went to rot. I was hoping you would pick it back up again, but it’s been almost three weeks and you still haven’t drawn anything… it hurts my soul. You need art in your life. It’s a part of you. So I started leaving different types of art supplies out to see if anything caught your interest.”

“Oh.” He blinked rapidly, touched by her thoughtfulness. “I- thank you.”

“Salazar, Draco-” Pansy walked past him to stare at what he had done, her delicate fingers resting against her lips in shock.

“It’s horrid, isn’t it? I’ve never used paint before. I don’t even know what a painting is supposed to look like if it’s not a portrait or landscape.” he scratched his nose nervously as she gazed quietly at the canvas.

“It’s so...sad. It’s expressed so elegantly though, it’s almost like…” she struggled to find words. “It’s hauntingly beautiful.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re having me on, it’s just a bunch of vague shapes and paint splatters. A house elf could have painted this.”

“You won’t mind if I take it to my art dealer to get it appraised, then.” She narrowed her eyes to glare fondly at him.

“Be my guest.” He snorted. “When they declare it worthless and a waste of perfectly good canvas we can use it as kindling.”

“Care to wager on that?” She smirked.

“Alright.” He agreed against his better judgment “What are we betting?”

“If my appraiser hates it and says you have no talent, I won’t force you to throw a housewarming party when you officially move to Rye.” She said delicately.

Not being forced to socialize? There was no way he could pass that up. Besides, the painting was rubbish. This bet was practically already won.

“Deal. What happens if I lose?” He felt confident enough in his lack of talent to be amused by what came out of her mouth next.

“You have to ask Harry Potter out on a date.”   
***  
The gallery was relatively empty, which was perfect. That meant Arimere would be available and that there would not be a wait to get his attention. The indirect lighting gave the gallery a warm glow and Pansy sighed in contentment. She always loved spending time here. It was strangely relaxing. 

She would have to ask Arimere if he had worked calming charms into the walls. If he had she would beg him to teach her how. She knew of a nameless ex-death eater that could certainly use some calming charms in his new home.

“Miss Pansy! To what do I owe this pleasure?” A lanky, magenta haired wizard exclaimed as he caught sight of her. He quickly closed the distance between them to embrace her and brush his lips against each cheek.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Arimere.” She beamed “I actually was hoping you could appraise a painting for me.”

“An appraisal! How exciting.” He gave her an overly dramatic gasp as he pulled her over towards the counter. “What wonderful find did you bring me today?”

“It’s a brand new artist, actually.” Pansy pulled Draco’s painting out of her bag and placed it on the counter. “This is his first work and he’s convinced that it’s worthless.”

“Fresh blood! Wonderful, let me have a look.” Ari grabbed the painting, tapping it with his wand to unshrink it. His eyes grew wide when it reached its full size. “Oh, Pansy.”

“I think it’s good, but I might be biased because he is a friend.” Pansy chewed on her lip nervously.

“You said this was his first painting?” Arimere glanced up at her.

“Very first. He usually draws but he seems to have lost his muse for that.”

“The brush strokes are juvenile and the consistency of the paint is mediocre at best, but-” He frowned, running his fingers across the canvas “the color scheme is phenomenal and the raw emotion! It’s almost surreal. I feel like I am experiencing the artist’s anger and uncertainty and pain myself.”

“Do you like it?”

“Darling, I love it. When can I meet him?” He set the painting down and grabbed a roll of parchment from underneath the counter.

“You want to meet him?” Pansy squeaked. 

That had not been a part of the deal. She wasn’t sure Draco would ever agree to meet Arimere. He was always so secretive about his drawings.

“If this is his first painting he is only going to get better. I want exclusive rights. I could even give him a few lessons to help him improve.” Arimere started jotting down his name and contact information on the parchment before ripping it off and offering it to her. 

“I’m not sure he will be interested, but I will definitely pass along the message.” She gave him a bemused smile. “Help me settle a bet though, how much would you say this painting is worth?”

“For a brand new artist without any kind of renown? I might be able to sell it for three hundred galleons. Possibly more if we find the right buyer.” He held his chin in his hand thoughtfully. 

“Really? That’s brilliant, thank you!” She laughed, moving to take the painting but Arimere stopped her.

“Can I hold onto it? I would really like to study it, see what information I can glean about this tortured soul before I meet him.”

“Unfortunately, it is not mine to lend out. Perhaps if he agrees to meet with you he will let you keep it.” She winked.

“That would be fantastic.” Ari grinned. 

“Thank you so much for your time, I really appreciate it.” She shrunk the painting and put it safely away in her bag before digging out her coin purse.

“Pansy, please. Do not insult me by trying to pay me.”

“You provided a service, let me compensate you for it.” She narrowed her eyes quizzically. Arimere had never turned down any type of revenue before.

“Get that friend of yours in here to see me and we will call it even.” His lips curled into a mischievous grin. 

“I’ll do my best.” She smirked.  
***

The pub was overcrowded as usual, even for a weekday. The dim overhead lighting did nothing to brighten the atmosphere. The dark wood walls seemed to absorb any light before it could reach the patrons and the stench of stale beer and sweat was heavy in the air. There was a cacophony of angry drunks shouting, wasted witches loudly singing along with the Weird Sisters off-key, and the strange clacking of multiple games of billiards being played on the opposite end of the bar. It was almost overwhelming and Harry wondered idly, not for the first time, why they always used this particular pub for their monthly Gryffindor nights. 

A group of rough-looking wizards kept shooting him suspicious glances and he shifted uncomfortably in the booth. He had gone with a simple glamour today, trusting the crowded atmosphere to protect his anonymity. He had changed his skin from bronze to pale, practically translucent- almost like Malfoy’s. He had ditched his glasses and changed his eye color too, so he figured leaving his hair might be alright. It was such a hassle to make it do anything- even with magic. Now he was starting to second guess the wisdom of his decision. 

Going anywhere in the wizarding world without a glamour on was dangerous. 

Well, dangerous if you’re Harry Potter. 

The first time he had gone out in public after the war he had been all but mauled by people who wanted to touch him or thank him for killing Voldemort. As if that was something he wanted to be praised for. They were relentless and by the time Ron had managed to drag him away from the adoring crowd his robes had been torn and his glasses broken. He had not ventured out into the wizarding world without a glamor ever since. 

“Those blokes keep looking at me.” He muttered as Ron sat down and handed him a beer.

“Ignore them.” Ron shrugged unconcernedly.

“Do you think they can see through my glamor?” 

“Nah, you look like a scrawny git. Not at all like yourself.” He patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Anytime.” Ron’s voice was muffled by his beer mug as he took a long draught. 

“Do you think the Slytherins do nights like this? Maybe Pansy could bring Malfoy to one.” Harry wondered out loud as he watched Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan arrive together, shaking the spring rain from their coats before meandering up to the bar to open their tabs.

“Are we still on this?” Ron sounded bored.

“He just looks so miserable any time I see him.” Harry huffed. “I just wish I could help.”

“So why don’t you talk to him?” Ron sighed.

“What? I can’t just… talk to him. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Malfoy, I know we hate each other and all but since you got released from the Ministry you don’t seem happy, what’s up with that?’” Harry snorted. 

“Well, yeah. That’s a start. Maybe not the ‘hating each other’ part, but you two were friendly enough during that dinner the day they got out.” Ron said bracingly.

“That’s only because we were with the girls and his parents. If I just waltzed up to him on his own I’m sure he’d hex me in half a second.”

“Oh, come off it. The way ‘Mione tells it you two were actually nice to each other.” Ron rolled his eyes at Harry’s theatrics. 

“I was being polite.”

“You let him clean your face for you.” Ron arched an eyebrow.

“I- that’s not-” Harry sputtered ineffectually “He didn’t exactly ask my permission.”

“You still let him.”

“I was in shock!”

“Malfoy’s in shock. He’s probably having a hard time adjusting, mate. Take him out for lunch or something, give him a sense of normalcy.”

Since when did Ron sound reasonable? Harry couldn’t deny he had a point, though. Harry hardly reacted well to being cut off from the wizarding world for a few months every summer. He could only imagine what Malfoy must be feeling after being cut off for a whole year.

“You think I should?” He contemplated the ramifications of going to lunch with his old nemesis. 

“It certainly couldn’t hurt. Worst thing that could happen is he cleans off your face again.” Ron chuckled.

“Oi, shut it.” Harry growled as Neville, Dean and Seamus all joined them at their table and claimed their beers. 

Any conversation relating to Malfoy ceased as the old dorm mates greeted each other. It was always nice to catch up with the boys, but for whatever reason, his thoughts kept straying back to those haunting silver eyes and permanent scowl. The more he considered Ron’s ludicrous idea the more Harry started to think that maybe he was right. Malfoy had mentioned that he didn’t have any friends other than Pansy. In the few weeks since they had dinner he was sure that couldn’t have changed much. Other than Hermione, of course. She had practically leaped at the chance to mend that bridge. How was he supposed to invite Malfoy to lunch without it being weird?

“Earth to Potter!” Dean snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“What?” Harry blinked rapidly, trying to bring himself back into the conversation.

“I asked how that raid went last week. Did you end up catching the muggle baiter you were after?” Seamus asked in an exasperated tone.

“Oh, it was rubbish. Gryffin triggered one of the wards and I ended up getting hit with a nasty defensive curse. The culprit slipped away while we were dealing with the aftermath of that. Gryffin felt horrible, but even I didn’t notice the hidden ward until it was too late.”

“Tough break.” Dean patted him sympathetically on the back.

“Better luck next time mate.” Ron said bracingly. 

“Who wants to do shots?” Seamus grinned maniacally. 

Everyone groaned while he dashed off to the bar to order them all a round. This was about to be either a very fun or a very long night. 

Harry was prepared for both.

“Why does he always think we want shots?” Neville crinkled his nose in distaste.

“Don’t ask me.” Dean shrugged. “Been dating for almost three years and what goes on in that man's head is still a mystery.”

“Better you than me.” Harry gave Dean a cheeky wink, causing the other boys to crack up.

“Liquid Devil’s Snare!” Seamus called triumphantly as he returned to the table with five acidic green colored shots. 

“Not more of your specialty shots.” Ron put on a show of sniffing his shot glass and making a face. 

“Oh yes. All of the specialty shots.” Seamus raised his glass after distributing the others. “To Gryffindor!”

“To Gryffindor!” They all cheered, clinking their glasses together.

The conversation flowed easily as Neville brought them news from Hogwarts. It was almost disturbing how much intel being the Herbology professor brought him. They had barely finished laughing about McGonagall swearing like a sailor in the staff room when Seamus launched into a convoluted but thrilling tale about the time he accidentally blew up his boss’s desk in a prank gone wrong. 

Everyone took turns buying a round for the table, and, as was their tradition, the buyer got to choose what everyone else drank. They had a very specific order that they followed; Ron was first because he usually picked beer, Seamus went second because, of course, he always bought shots and they needed to chase whatever torture he inflicted on them with the last of their beer. Harry went next because he ordered based on whatever mood he was in, keeping things interesting and mixing it up. Dean usually deferred to cocktails, making for a nice palate cleanser after whatever Harry ordered. Neville went last because he tended to opt for what he knew everyone liked, ending the night on a high note. It was a relatively inexpensive way to get sloshed and it was always fun watching the other guys try different drinks. 

The combination of the beer and the liquid Devil’s Snare had Harry’s head floating rather quickly. It felt like running on air, which was a rather pleasant sensation. When the others were close to finishing their beers Harry decided it was time to buy the next round. He chose a crowd favorite that was guaranteed to get them all pissed. He had to borrow a tray from the bar to bring five Irish Slammers over to their little corner, but it was worth it when Seamus and Ron cheered and Neville and Dean complained loudly when they caught sight of what Harry had picked. 

“I have to work in the morning!” Neville griped as he took his beer and shot glass.

“So do we.” Ron snorted, passing Dean and Seamus their glasses. “Drink up!”

“Here’s to us, the best of friends, and if we tend to disagree fuck you, and here’s to me!” Harry grinned as they clinked their beers. 

The others made noises of agreement before dropping their whiskey and Irish cream shots into the dark stout and slamming it all in one go. Five empty glasses hit the table in rapid succession and Harry could feel the rush of the alcohol flooding through his veins.

“Who’s up for some billiards?” Dean loudly after letting out a rather impressive belch. 

“You just want to mop the floor with the lot of us again.” Neville accused, somewhat ruining the effect with his wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll go easy on you, I promise!” Dean said a little too earnestly.

“Oi, I’ve heard that before.” Seamus quipped, poking his boyfriend in the ribs, causing him to giggle and squirm closer to Ron.

The entire table burst out laughing at the innuendo, slapping Dean on the back as they gave him a good, if somewhat unintelligible, ribbing. 

“I’m serious!” He complained, his cheeks glowing with heat. “I wanna play.”

“Alright, fine. But you’re buying.” Ron pointed a finger in Dean's face as they all vacated the booth.

“That’s fine by me, it’s my turn to buy a round anyway.” He grinned before loping off towards the bar.

“I don’t know when he got so good at billiards.” Seamus groaned fondly. “He wants to put a table in our spare room. I think he’s barking.”

“Don’t let him! He’s too good as is. If he had his own table to practice with we would never win.” Ron laughed as they claimed an empty billiard table towards the back of the pub.

“How are we doing teams this time?” Neville swayed slightly on his feet as they gravitated towards the cue holster.

“Harry and Seamus are the best out of the four of us, so I figure you pair with Harry and I’ll pair with Seamus. Hopefully, together we can manage to beat him.” Ron grabbed the longest cue, testing it against his height and making sure it was relatively straight.

“Works for me.” Harry shrugged.

He wasn’t entirely sure where his skill with billiards came from, but he was rather decent at it. Hermione insisted it was basic geometry, but Harry had never been good with math so he was sure that wasn’t it. He could just look at the table and see what the best shot was without thinking about it. He didn’t really consider it a talent. 

It didn’t take long before Dean joined them with a tray of brightly colored drinks and a pocket full of change. 

“Tequila sunrises!” He called happily, setting the tray down on the nearest hightop before grabbing a cue and releasing the balls.

“Cheers, mate.” Neville took his glass and sipped on it enthusiastically. He was always a sucker for the sweeter drinks.

“It’s Harry and Neville, then me and Ron against you, love.” Seamus placed a quick kiss on his cheek as he wracked the balls.

“That’s a pretty even match. When those games are done, I want to play Harry one on one though. He’s the only one of you sorry lot that can keep up with me.” Dean shot a quick wink at Harry. 

“You’re on.” Harry positioned the cue ball and squared up to break. He slid his cue smoothly over the skin between his thumb and pointer finger and the neat triangle of balls exploded into chaos. “Guess we’re stripes, Nev.”

Neville took another gulp of his sunrise before approaching the table with an intense look of concentration. Harry could already see the best shot but Nev was circling the table, occasionally squatting to get eye level with the balls. When he finally picked a position Harry had to hide a smile. All of that careful consideration and he had picked the hardest shot. It came as no surprise that he didn’t make it, but Harry clapped him on the back anyway.

“That was a difficult shot, you did fine.” He smiled warmly at him. Neville rolled his eyes but grinned back.

“Watch and learn, boys. Watch and learn.” Dean smirked, sinking four solids in rapid succession. 

“You mean learn how to lose?” Harry teased as he lined up his shot. Two stripes spun into corner pockets and he couldn’t help the flush of pride that washed over him at accomplishing a tricky shot.

“You wish!” Dean laughed.

They spent the rest of the game razzing each other and having fun. Neville even ended up making as many shots as he missed, which was a great ratio for him. When Dean finally sank the eight ball they gracefully stepped aside to let Ron and Seamus have a go. 

“Where did you learn to play so well?” Neville asked as they sat down at the high top with their drinks to watch their friends play.

“I didn’t, really. It just sort of...clicked the first time I played. It’s easy for me to see where the balls need to go and the best path to get them there. I’m sorry, I’m not really the best person to ask.” Harry felt bad as the hopeful look slid off Neville’s face.

“That’s alright, I was just hoping you could help me get better.” Neville tried to shrug it off.

“No, I’d love to. I won’t really be able to explain things properly but I can try and show you what to look for when lining up a shot. What I can’t teach you, maybe Dean can.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” Neville flashed him that shy little smile that tugged at Harry’s heartstrings and he felt a surge of affection for his friend.

“Of course not, Nev. I never mind helping you.” Harry punched him playfully on the arm, causing them both to sway unsteadily. 

“This game will be over quickly.” Dean announced as he came over to grab his drink. “What are you two up to?”

“I was actually just offering to help Nev learn how to play better. You in?” Harry chirped happily.

“No problem. My dad used to play all the time and he taught me growing up, so it should be easy teaching you.” Dean shrugged.

“Is your dad as good as you?” Neville asked dubiously.

“Better. I haven’t won a game against him yet. He loves to swindle his friends out of their money on their pub nights.” Dean smirked.

“Like father like son.” Nev snorted.

“Oi, I’ve never swindled you for money!” Dean cried in mock outrage.

“Yet!” Ron called. “You have to account for your father’s corrupting influence!” 

“I’ll have you know, my father is a saint.”

“Compared to who?” Seamus laughed. “Draco Malfoy’s dad?”

Ron and Neville guffawed loudly but Harry stiffened. 

“Now there’s a daddy’s boy if I ever saw one. Like father, like son there.” Dean chuckled.

"Death Eater see, Death Eater do." Neville joined in after finishing off his tequila sunrise.

“They’re not Death Eaters.” Harry hissed through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, they are. They’re marked.” Seamus gave him an odd look, but it only incensed him further. 

The alcohol brought a wave of irrational anger to the surface, the likes of which Harry had never felt before. 

“They didn’t have a choice! You have no idea what they went through- you don’t know them at all! Where do you get off judging them?”

“Well, they have the Dark Mark, don’t they? They were marked by You-Know-Who. By definition that makes them Death Eaters.” Dean crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Voldemort marked me too!” He snapped, pointing at his forehead even though the glamour hid his scar. “Does that mean I was in league with him as well then?” 

He derived a sick sense of pleasure at the way all four of them flinched at the use of Voldemort’s name. 

“Of course not, Harry. But they have his actual mark-” Neville said timidly.

“They did what they had to to survive!”

“Why are you defending them? Didn’t you and Malfoy hate each other in school?” Seamus retorted.

“They saved my life.” Harry snarled.

“So the article wasn’t a hoax, then? It wasn’t the prophet just spouting off nonsense, you actually said all of that?” Dean looked scandalized.

“I did, and I will again! The Malfoys are good people!”

“Sorry, mate, but that's a tough sell.” Seamus shook his head. 

“It’s not a sell, it’s the truth, and if you lot won’t even give them the benefit of the doubt then I’m out. I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.” Harry fumed, standing up angrily and rushing out of the pub.

He ignored the calls of his friends trying to convince him to stay. He even ignored the gasps of shock when he felt his glamour pop while his blood boiled in his veins. Before the masses could converge on him he slipped out the door and apparated away without a second thought


	19. In which Harry goes clothes shopping and Draco is forced to wear a bowtie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy plays both sides of the fence, Hermione drags Harry shopping, Harry picks out a thoughtful gift, Draco finds that Ginny Weasley is actually sort of funny, and Harry and Draco bond at a beach party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! We are getting super close to their first kiss and I am SO excited! Thank you all so much for putting up with my Ninetee-chapters-in-and-they've-barely-interacted slow burn! It will all be worth it, I promise!  
> As always a massive shout out to my Darling AlexClio, she is the best beta reader ever and I owe her so much! 😭 She helped me out a lot with this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it!  
> Happy reading!

She was running late. 

Of course she was, there were never enough hours in a day. Pansy peeled off her work robes as she walked, folding them neatly before shrinking them and placing them in her purse. She counted it as a victory that the halls of the center were deserted. Any time she encountered someone today they had another problem for her to solve and she was beginning to think taking over for Harry had been a bad trade. 

Pansy loved running the center, of course. Seeing scared little orphans, the forgotten or abandoned healing and growing and learning to thrive was far more rewarding than she could have ever dreamed. Some days she couldn’t believe she got paid to do this. She would have gladly done it for free.

Today was not one of those days.

She’d walked into chaos this morning and spent the rest of her day figuratively, and on one occasion literally, putting out fires. The last one to hit her desk had taken twice as long than it should have to sort out and now she was late for her coffee date with Draco. He would understand, of course, but it was the principal of the matter. Pansy hated being late.

She apparated directly to the coffee shop as soon as she passed the gates of the center, not even bothering to freshen up. Draco was sitting in the window, watching the crowds walk by with an almost serene expression. His freshly cut platinum hair was arranged in careful disarray and his white collared shirt highlighted the tan he had picked up from living on the beach for over a week. Someone who didn’t know him as well as she did would think he was perfectly at ease. He glanced up automatically when she entered the cafe and flashed her a relieved smile.

“Busy day?” He asked as she pulled out her chair.

“Insanely.” She sighed. “It’s over now, though. Thank Merlin.”

She sat back in surprise when a waitress dropped off her favorite latte with a smooth wink before disappearing back behind the counter.

“When you weren’t here on time I figured you must be having a rough day, so I ordered for you.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” She was touched by his thoughtfulness. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Draco took a refined sip of his own coffee with a masterfully constructed innocent expression.

“Ugh, no. I just escaped. Let’s start with you, how was your day?” She snorted into her cup before the blissful flavors of caramel and mocha coated her tongue.

“It went really well, actually.” He looked surprised that his day had been good. “Arimere offered me a job and wants to put my painting on display.”

“He gave you a job?” She beamed at him.

“He gave me a full-time position with painting lessons during downtime as an incentive to say yes. It would have been rude to refuse.” He smirked just a little. 

“Draco that’s fantastic!” She squealed. “I am so happy for you!” 

“I was a little surprised he wanted to hire me, I know nothing about art.”

“He obviously sees something in you.” She rolled her eyes, taking another long sip of her latte. 

“Right.” He scoffed.

This sparked a rather spirited debate and they fell into the familiar patterns of their complex and unique friendship. They discussed all of the intricacies of Draco working in the gallery in between joking and poking fun at one another. It was almost like old times. Draco was so excited to be working that he almost forgot to whine about Harry, which did not escape Pansy’s notice. 

“It will be nice to start earning my own income. I hate drawing from the family vaults,” He grimaced as he finished off his coffee. “It only serves as a reminder that I’m a Malfoy.”

“I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind adding you as part-owner of the Black vaults if you asked.” Pansy set down her cup delicately, fully aware she was poking a sleeping bear.

“I’m not asking him for anything.” He scowled at her “I certainly don’t need the money.”

“Well, you do have to ask him something.” She grinned wickedly at him. 

Draco’s expression went from bewilderment to terror in a matter of seconds and her grin grew wider.

“No. No, absolutely not.” He crossed his arms stubbornly. 

“A bet is a bet, and you lost. “ Pansy was beside herself with wicked glee.

“That- I don’t-” He struggled to find words. “No.”

“Come on, you’ve been wanting to ask him out for years! Now is your chance, so take it.” She goaded.

“Pansy, I-” He huffed. “We’ve talked about my day, how was yours? What happened to make it so terrible?” 

“Nice try.” She laughed. “Go on, just a friendly meet up if not a date.”

“He’d hex me before I get the chance to even finish asking.” His silver eyes narrowed against thinly veiled panic.

“Oi, he saved you from Azkaban. The least you can do is buy him a coffee.” She slapped his wrist playfully. 

“He’s going to say no.” Draco glared at her sullenly.

“Then there is no harm in asking.”

“I can’t just ask the hero of the entire sodding wizarding world out for a friendly chat!” He grit his teeth.

“Why not? Worst thing that can happen is he says no.”

“Wrong. What if he says yes?”

“Then you go out for a lovely cup of coffee, much like we are doing right now, and you talk to him, Draco.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. 

“People aren’t going to like seeing us together. They all still hate me because I’m-”

“Then go to a muggle shop!”

“How am I supposed to ask him? We never cross paths.” Draco seemed delighted by the obstacle. 

“I’ll take care of it.” She replied instantly and the triumph slipped from his face.

“What?”

“Hermione and I will throw a dinner party. Oh! Or we can invite him to your housewarming party! It wouldn’t be too hard to get him to come.” She felt the familiar fire of mischief ignite inside of her.

“Pansy.” He whined. “You can’t force me to ask out Potter and host a housewarming party. That’s just not fair.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll host your housewarming party. All you have to do is come out of your house and onto the beach and let the guests use your bathroom when necessary. Oh, this is going to be wonderful! Make sure you get next weekend off!”

“I-”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She smirked, finishing her coffee and standing up. “I’m sorry, but I really must dash. Places to go, people to see...parties to plan. Come over for dinner later?”

“I suppose so.” He sighed in defeat.

“Lovely.” She kissed his cheek in farewell before rushing out of the cafe.

She was running behind for her next friend-date. 

Again. 

She sighed as she apparated away. She really hated being late. 

Pansy smoothed her skirt as she walked into the brightly lit pub and glanced around. There was no telling where he might be. She went straight to the bar and was about to order a drink when an amused voice on her left demanded her attention. 

“Hey, stranger. Funny meeting you here.” 

When she turned towards it she was met by a stocky sandy-haired wizard with blue eyes and a pale complexion. She sighed in relief when she recognized the glint in his eyes. It was a decent glamor, he was getting much better at them. She climbed into the seat next to him and settled in, flashing him an apologetic expression. 

“I know, I’m late but the center-”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been there this whole time?” Harry sounded affronted and Pansy broke into a smile.

“No, it made me late for a coffee date with Draco which caused that to run late, and now I’m here late, and I-”

“Pans, it’s alright.” Harry laughed. “Here, I ordered you your favorite. The ice has melted a bit, but I ‘reckon it’s still alright.” He passed her a tall glass filled to the brim with a pretty red liquid.

“Merlin, I need this.” She accepted the glass gratefully, siping around the rim to prevent spillage before taking a long drink. “Thank you.”

“What happened with the center?” He asked, passing her a bev nap so she could put her drink down. 

“It’s probably best if you don’t know, actually.” She grimaced, thinking of the fire in the art room. There had been no injuries or permanent damage, so no need to worry him. “It’s all sorted now, that’s what matters.” 

“You’re lucky I trust you.” Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

“Don’t I know it.” She chuckled, taking another sip of the Jameson and cran he had so thoughtfully gotten her. 

The irony that Draco and Harry displayed the same form of consideration had not escaped her notice. They were all but made for each other. It was a pity they were each convinced the other hated them. Harry was quiet for a moment, staring into his rocks glass as if he might find answers on the bottom. This was somewhat normal, comfortable silence was one of the things she loved about her friendship with Harry. He would speak up when he had something to say. 

“Do you Slytherins ever get together and go do something fun?” He asked quietly.

“How do you mean?” She hummed. 

“It’s just- everyone from our Gryffindor dorm gets together once a month and we drink and play billiards and catch up. It’s always a lot of fun, so I was wondering if Slytherins do anything like that.” He looked slightly uncomfortable. 

“Not that I’m aware of.” Pansy studied him out of the corner of her eye. For some reason, he was turning red. “Why?”

“I was just thinking- erm, it might help Malfoy feel more connected or whatever. If they did and he was invited” He said in a rush.

“Why, Harry Potter- are you concerned about Draco Malfoy?” She teased. 

“No! I just-” He sighed in frustration. “He said he didn’t have many friends and he’s been locked away and cut off from everything for a year, and I…. I just know what it feels like.” 

“You care.” Pansy said softly, touching his arm.

“I hated being locked away and cut off from the world every summer. It was horrible, even when it was only for a month at a time. Coming back to Hogwarts always felt like...I don’t know, it was just a huge relief. Malfoy doesn't have that, there’s no Hogwarts for him to go back to. So I figured maybe a Slytherin night out would be good for him.” He was tearing a napkin to shreds while he talked, a telltale sign that he didn’t want to deal with whatever emotions he was feeling.

“I think that’s a great idea, Harry.” She gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze and he almost smiled.

“I have those sometimes.” He said dryly. 

“Speaking of great ideas involving the socialization of a certain blonde pain in the ass,” She smirked “I was hoping you’d come to Draco’s housewarming party next weekend. I’m thinking of a beach bonfire, a muggle style boombox, fairy lights, copious amounts of alcohol- the works.” 

“Do I have to go?” He asked wearily.

“Yes.” She sniffed. “I’m throwing it, and you love my parties.”

“No, I love you. I hate parties, even yours.” Harry grumbled, finishing his neat whiskey.

“Awe, how sweet of you. I’m so glad you can make it.” 

“Oi, I never said-”

“Come on, boy wonder. For me?” She batted her eyelashes at him and he sighed.

“No press? Or idiotic Potter-rotters?” He was close to caving. She could sense it.

“Merlin, no. I’m not an idiot.”

“No dancing?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch! I’m just trying to flesh out the guest list. You said it yourself, he doesn’t have many friends left.” For a moment she wondered if she was laying it on too thick, but Harry’s tortured expression gave her hope. “You wouldn’t want my party to be a flop because no one shows up, would you?”

“Fine. I’ll come, but I won’t have fun.” He growled sullenly. 

“That works for me!” Pansy beamed, downing the rest of her drink.

“Need to rush home to Hermione?” Harry arched an eyebrow at her.

“I’ve got thirty minutes.” She shot him a mischievous grin. “Having one more won’t hurt me.”  
***  
“I don’t even want to go, ‘Mione.” Harry whined as she pulled him through the muggle mall.

“You should have thought about that before telling Pansy you would, then.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“No one expects me to look nice.” He insisted.

“Or to bring a gift? It’s a housewarming party, Harry. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.” She sighed as she led him into some name brand store he was certain would be overpriced. 

“What kind of gift do you get for someone who hates you?” He asked idly as they sorted through racks. 

Well, as Hermione sorted through racks. Harry just sort of stood there awkwardly and watched. He hated clothes shopping. He hated shopping period, and yet here he was. Because of Draco bloody Malfoy.

“He doesn’t hate you! Stop being dramatic.” Hermione’s tone was impatient as she examined a green shirt before putting it back with a huff.

“You don’t know that.” He said stubbornly.

“Actually, I do. So does Pansy, and even Ron. The only person who seems to think Draco still hates you is you. Get over it.” She didn’t bother to look up, sliding shirts down the rack as she discarded them.

“But I-”

“Here, try this on with…” she handed him a dark blueish-green button-up and moved on to the trouser section, pulling out dark grey cargo shorts with silver embroidery around the pockets. “These shorts.”

“It’s a beach party, why do I have to wear a collared shirt?” He asked as she forced them into his hands and pushed him towards the changing rooms. 

“Because it is still a party and you want to look nice.”

“I do?” He shot her a dubious glance and she laughed.

“Yes, you do. Now go.” She shooed him away with her hands.

“I hate you.” He called as she closed the changing stall door behind him.

“I know! You’ll love me again when this is all over.” Her voice echoed over the walls of the changing area and Harry couldn’t help but grin.

He changed into the outfit she had picked out for him and frowned at his reflection. Even if he thought he was still too thin, the shirt fit him for the most part and the shorts hung to his knees the way he liked. He had put on some muscle during Auror training, but he was more lean and wiry than bulky like most of his coworkers and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. 

“How does it look?” Hermione sounded impatient. 

“Er,” He supposed it didn’t look bad. 

The arms of the button up were a little tight, but they made his biceps look bigger so he didn’t really mind. He saved himself the trouble of having to satisfy her curiosity with words and just went out to meet her.

“Oh, that looks wonderful! How does it feel?”

“Alright. The arms are a little tight, and across the shoulders, but not too bad.” He shrugged.

“Don’t be silly, we can get the next size up.” She smoothed the shirt over his shoulders and looked him up and down critically. “It feels like it’s missing something.”

“I could just wear it open, that would solve the shoulder problem.” He suggested hopefully. He didn’t want to have to try on another shirt. 

“You can’t just...hold on, you might be onto something. Stay right here.” Hermione frowned thoughtfully before disappearing. 

Harry sighed and returned to his dressing room to wait. Clothes shopping was always a bore. With Hermione, it was ten times worse. What seemed like hours later Hermione returned, throwing more clothing over the door for him to try on. 

“Here, I grabbed a few options. I like the shorts but I’m starting to rethink the shirt. Try the graphic tank top under the teal shirt first.” She ordered.

“Erm, which one is the teal one?”

“The one you just had on! Honestly…” She tutted and Harry sighed.

Why were colors so confusing? 

He briefly considered just putting his t-shirt and jeans back on and telling her to stuff it, but thought better of it. She would probably murder him and make it look like an accident. He did as instructed, letting her dictate what shirts to put on with good grace until she was satisfied. They ended up buying the shorts, a sand-colored graphic tank with a depiction of the Kraken taking down a pirate ship on it, and a different colored teal button-down that was more greenish-blue than blueish-green. She had tried to talk him into buying a shark tooth necklace to ‘tie the whole outfit together’, but he had put his foot down on jewelry. There was only so much a man could be expected to take. 

By the time they left the clothing store, his wallet was considerably lighter and Hermione was positively in her element, chattering about what she and Pansy were planning on getting Draco for his housewarming gift. Apparently, Pansy had seen an indoor waterfall somewhere and gone off the deep end trying to replicate it. Harry interjected comments here and there but he was more than happy to let her do the majority of the talking. He was only mildly surprised when she stopped and pulled him into a novelty shop selling anything from paintings, to carefully carved figurines, to tea sets. It smelled strongly of incense and spices and Harry relaxed despite himself. 

“I know he doesn’t like electronics, which is too bad because this would be perfect. You should have seen the work we put in to make his house electricity-free.” She was rambling and Harry guiltily tried to catch up.

“He doesn’t like electricity?” He questioned, glancing at the table waterfall Hermione was holding. It was beautiful, but sure enough, it had a plug. 

“He says he can hear it.” She frowned, studying the waterfall in her hands. “I wonder if I could charm this to run off magic instead?”

“Probably,” Harry said encouragingly. “You’re really clever at spells like that. Remember when you charmed your reading light to work at Hogwarts despite all of the magical interference and a distinct lack of outlets?”

“Oh! Harry, you’re brilliant! I had forgotten about that.” She was looking at the desk waterfall with renewed interest. “Between Pansy and myself I’m certain we can figure something out.”

“Glad I could help.” 

“What are you getting him?” She turned and shot him a curious look.

“Er, I haven’t really thought about it.” He fidgeted with his glasses nervously. 

“Well look around, if you can’t find anything in here we can always try a different store.” She smiled, setting the waterfall she was holding down and picking up one that lit up. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thanks.” He was honestly relieved she wouldn’t be hovering over him making suggestions as he shopped. 

What do you get someone you used to hate, that saved your life, and now you’re on awkward terms? It was a weird line to walk. He moved slowly through the aisles, occasionally picking something up to inspect it before discarding it as too shallow or too weird. He even gave some of the tea sets a cursory glance before moving on. They were all flowery and bright, garish colors. Malfoy would probably hate those. At the end of the aisle, a black set that was sparkling caught his eye and he had to back up because he almost passed it.

The pot was round, like a globe, and decorated with constellations that looked like they had been carved in silver. It was oddly beautiful. When he picked up the saucers they were similarly decorated with images of the sun and moon with constellations circling around the edges. The cups were a glossy black on the outside, but on the inside they had silver stars mapping out various constellations with either a sun or a moon on the very bottom of the cup. The milk and sugar jars were peppered with individual stars and crescent moons. There were no lines connecting constellations on them, but they still looked elegant and classy.

Harry had never seen a tea set like this before. Without any type of logic guiding him, he knew he had to get it for Draco. He couldn’t explain why, he just knew. When Hermione found him he was just pulling a box from the shelf beneath the display.

“A tea set?” She asked quizzically. 

She wasn’t judging him, she rarely did, she seemed genuinely confused. 

“Well, he’s named after the stars, right? It’s a Black family tradition? So I’m getting him a tea set with stars on it.” He shrugged.

“But Harry, look at the price-” Hermione’s eyes went wide when she read the sticker by the display. 

Apparently, the design was inlaid with real silver, so it was a tad expensive but Harry didn’t really care.

“It’s a tea set. It’s not like I’m buying him a Ferrari or anything. I can spend a little extra, he doesn’t need to know how much it cost.” Harry looked at the fragile box in his hands with a strange emotion stirring in his chest.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Hermione was giving him her ‘You don’t fool me’ look, which seemed out of place considering the circumstances. “I think Draco will love it.”


	20. In which Draco gains some liquid courage and Harry learns something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you read the last chapter summary and were left confused, this chapter is what the last half of that summary was referring to. If not, then you probably didn't read this one either and it's a moot point. Cheers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this was originally part of chapter 19, but then I realized it was 23 pages long so I broke it up into more manageable sections. This is Draco's Housewarming party and there are some cute Drarry moments! I hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it!  
> As always; THANK YOU ALEX, YOU'RE AMAZING! I don't deserve you. 😭  
> If you've stuck with me this long, I appreciate your patience and dedication to my inane ramblings! If you're new, glad to see you! Please leave comments and kudos, they fuel my writing rage. Happy reading!

“Pansy, enough.” Draco huffed in exasperation.

“No! You look so dashing with a bowtie!” She whined, trying to wrap the misshapen silver strip of fabric around his neck for the thirteenth time.

“It’s a beach party! No one wears bowties to beach parties.” He hissed, batting at her hands as she tried to tie it.

“Yes, but you’re the host so you have to look better than everyone else.” Pansy glared at him, her violet eyes flashing playfully.

“You’re the host, though. And you look phenomenal enough for the both of us.” He insisted, nodding at her mulberry knee-length, sleeveless dress. 

The neckline was modest but left the top of her chest exposed before coming back together to form a high collar that circled the bottom of her throat. It was a strangely elegant design that somehow managed to exude both modern and classic beauty. She had been growing her chestnut hair out and coaxing her bangs into a side sweep, but she wore it all up tonight. She kept her bangs back with a wine-colored headband, and the rest held neatly on the top of her head with matching barrettes. She had even done her makeup and painted her nails the same shade as her dress. She was a vision.

“Thank you, but nice try.” She laughed. “You need to look nice too!”

“I already look nice, I don’t need a sodding bowtie.” He gestured at his dark teal trousers and light grey button-up tucked loosely into the waistband. He had the sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbow, showing off his freshly tanned forearms. 

“It pulls the outfit together.” Pansy pouted.

Her violet eyes drilled into him until Draco sighed and gave in with poor grace. 

“Alright, tie the bloody thing on me, then.” 

Pansy giggled gleefully as she expertly tied it with deft fingers. Just as she was making sure it sat straight Hermione walked into Draco’s room.

“You look great, Draco!” She smiled as she wrapped her arms around Pansy’s waist and kissed her neck.

“Don’t you like the bowtie?” Pansy winked wickedly.

“Oh I love it, it really makes the whole outfit better.” Hermione smirked.

She was in a much more beach-appropriate sundress made from a gossamer fabric printed with sunflowers over a cream-colored under-dress and her unruly curls were piled in a wild messy bun. 

“Oi, I don’t need you two ganging up on me.” He cried in mock outrage.

“It’s a party, sweetheart, do try to enjoy it.” His mother’s voice floated through the door, announcing her arrival.

“Not you too.” Draco pouted.

“Your home is beautiful, I love what you’ve done with it.” She smiled.

“Well, I learned from the best.” Draco rushed forward to give his mother a hug. She welcomed him with open arms, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “It’s good to see you, mother.” 

“It’s good to see you too.” She patted his cheek affectionately before turning to face the girls and rubbing her hands together excitedly. “Alright! Why don’t we all go out to the beach and get this party started?”

“Excellent idea, Narcissa.” Pansy simpered, offering Hermione her arm as an escort while Draco offered his own arm to his mother.

They descended the stairs and walked through the foyer together, chatting and laughing. When they reached the outside Draco almost stopped dead in his tracks. Pansy had positively transformed the patch of beach that he more or less owned. She had set up poles made out of driftwood and strung up netting and fairy lights between them to make a sort of canopy that protected the muggle style boombox, drinks, and snacks from the sun. A table was set up with disposable cups and plates and large bowls filled with enough snack food to feed an army. The boombox got its own table with a large selection of compact records next to it. Hermione had called them CDs. Beyond the canopy was a roaring fire with massive pieces of driftwood circling around it to serve as benches. What shocked him the most, however, was Harry chatting animatedly with his father while the Weasel and Weaselette were going through the CDs together.

“Do you like it?” Pansy asked nervously.

“It looks amazing, Pans. Thank you.” He shot her a quick smile.

Her eyes flicked over to where Harry and his father were and understanding flashed in them.

“Don’t worry, these are just the early birds. The rest of the guest list apparently likes to be fashionably late.” She casually moved the group towards the boombox. 

“You invited the Weasleys?” He arched an eyebrow at her.

“I invited them.” Hermione cut in. “With both me and Harry being here, Ron would have been lonely and miserable so I said he could come if he behaved himself. Ginny overheard and sort of invited herself along. They won’t cause any problems, I promise.”

“There they are! The she-snake and the he-snake!” Ron grinned as they approached.

“Ron!” Harry and Hermione snapped at the same time. Hermione sounded angry, but Harry almost sounded amused.

“What? They’re terms of endearment….sort of.” The Weasel wrinkled his nose at his own flimsy defense.

“Well if it isn't the Weasel and Weaselette.” Draco laughed. “Welcome to the snake den.”

“Draco!” Pansy and his mother coursed this time.

“Terms of endearment, right Weasel?” He sent him a cheeky smile and the Weasel returned it, if a bit apprehensively. 

“Right. Nice place you got there.” His face flushed, making his freckles stand out in stark relief as he stood up straight. 

Had he always been taller than Draco?

“Thank you, I just moved in fully this past week.” He tried to keep his tone light and friendly.

“Here, we brought this for you.” The Weasel grabbed a large bottle full of an amber liquid off the table. “Bill and George started brewing their own mead, this is from their best batch so far. Happy... housewarming, or whatever.” 

“Or whatever.” Draco chuckled, taking the bottle. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t we open it?” His mother asked after a brief awkward silence.

“Great idea!” Draco jumped at the chance to get out of the spotlight. “I’ll grab the cups.”

Hermione followed him over to the refreshment table, her hazel eyes sharp.

“I can tell them to go. I know you and Ron don’t get along, and I’m sorry. He was just so sad, and Pansy said you wouldn’t mind, but-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s good, actually, because I know Pansy is trying to get on better with him, so I might as well start too.” When Hermione gave him a disbelieving glare he sighed. “Look, we may never be friends, but it would be nice if our first instinct when we see each other isn’t to draw our wands.” Draco said bracingly.

“What about Harry? I know Pansy invited him, but have you two talked at all these past couple weeks?” Hermione was wearing her overly concerned look and it set Draco on edge.

“Not really, our paths never really cross.” He said warily. Had Pansy told her about the bet?

“Well, maybe you should. If you both can handle being friends with me and Pansy, you can handle being friends with each other.” She smiled encouragingly and then grabbed a sleeve of cups and walked back to the others. 

Draco heaved a sigh then looked around helplessly for something he could bring back with him so he didn’t look like an idiot. He grabbed the closest bowl of crisps and followed Hermione. When he got back everyone was laughing at something his father had said and the bottle of mead had been opened. He quickly set the crisps down and accepted the red cup that Harry was handing him.

“Here’s to new beginnings!” His mother smiled warmly once everyone had a plastic cup of mead in their hands.

“I’ll drink to that.” Draco smirked before taking a tentative sip. “It’s rather good. Bill and George made this?”

“Yeah, they’ve been trying to branch out and make some side money for the baby.” The Weaselette spoke for the first time since they had come outside.

“Baby? There’s going to be another Weasley?” Draco turned to face her directly.

“Bill and Fleur’s. I’m having a hard time imagining a ginger Veela. Can you imagine literally flaming red hair? It would look bloody ridiculous.” She gave him a tentative half-smile.

He snorted some of his mead through his nose and immediately began coughing. 

“No one told me you were funny.” He managed to gasp out. 

“Well, all of my friends think I'm a riot. This lot just doesn't get my sense of humor.” She shrugged.

“That’s a shame.” He tried to smile past the burning in his nose as he tried to wipe the mead off his face without getting it on his clothes.

“I think you’re supposed to drink it, not wear it.” Harry’s velvet voice broke him out of his little bubble with the Weaselette and he turned towards him.

“Oh, is that how it’s done? And here I’ve been wearing every drink I’ve ever had. Boy, that’s embarrassing.” Draco quipped, trying not to grimace. That had definitely sounded better in his head.

Harry laughed, though. He set his own mead down and grabbed a couple of napkins off the table. 

“Here, you’ve got some just there…” Harry reached out and wiped at the mead that he could feel dripping down his chin and Draco had to remind himself to breathe.

The sound of a dying hyena erupted into the night and both Harry and Draco turned towards the disturbance. Ron was almost doubled over, laughing hysterically. 

“What-did-I-bloody-tell-you-mate?” Ron gasped between gales of laughter. 

Draco glanced over at Harry, utterly confused. Harry looked bewildered too for a moment, then dawning comprehension flashed in his emerald eyes and he started to turn red.

“Oi, I- that’s not- sod off.” He stammered, tossing the used napkins in the conveniently placed trash bin and crossing his arms. 

Draco looked over at Pansy and Hermione, hoping they could shed some light on the subject but they both just shook their heads.

“Draco!” a high pitched squeal announced the arrival of the other party guests. 

He braced for impact as Daphne Greengrass rushed over to him and all but tackled him in a hug. She was soon joined by Tracy Davis who wrapped her arms around both of them.

“Salazar, it’s so good to see you!” Tracy laughed as he disentangled himself from the Slytherin girls.

“It’s great to see you too!” He grinned. He attempted to grab for his mead but was quickly pulled sideways into a pair of big arms. He grunted when he collided with a solid chest of muscle before he realized it was Greg. 

“Greg!” He laughed, finally returning the hug. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Romania, actually. I’m herding dragons.” He said proudly, letting Draco go so he could get a good look at him.

There were a few burn scars on his hands and he had a nasty scar that ripped his right eyebrow in half, but other than that he looked like the same old Greg.

“I dig the scars, they’re a good look on you” He punched his arm playfully. 

“That’s why I keep them.” Greg grinned.

“Listen, there is mead over by the Weasley’s and Pansy has laid out an exorbitant amount of snacks over there. Help yourself!” He pointed back towards the tables. Harry had melted into the shadows and Draco frowned at that.

“What are the Weasley’s doing here?” Tracy sounded incredulous. 

Ah, yes. The reason he didn’t make a habit of hanging out with his fellow Slytherins. Judgemental pricks, one and all. Not that he blamed them, it wasn’t their fault entirely. It’s how they all had been raised.

“They’re my...” Draco struggled with the word but finally managed to spit it out. “friends. The Weasel isn’t all that bad and the Weaselette is actually quite funny. You should talk to them.” He patted her on the shoulder and moved towards the others that were coming in behind them. 

Time to put his ‘Gracious Host’ face on. He slipped into the role easily. Thanks to being brought up around dinner parties, fundraising galas, and holiday parties, Draco was quite adept at hosting. He just hated it. 

Music started pumping from the boombox as more and more guests arrived. Pansy had invited a decent mix of people, and Draco was honestly surprised they all showed up. There were a few more Gryffindors that joined the throng, Neville Longbottom arrived with a pretty Ravenclaw on his arm that Draco hardly recognized and Oliver Wood arrived on the arm of Marcus Flint. Draco had raised his eyebrows at that pairing, but who was he to judge? 

It looked like she had invited all of the Quidditch teams from when he played at Hogwarts and a couple of Hufflepuffs they used to be friendly with as well. Luna Lovegood and Millicent Bulstrode arrived together and Draco immediately hugged both women. He was surprisingly pleased to see them. Most people had brought a bottle or two of alcohol as a housewarming gift and Draco happily added them to the mix of drinks on the table. If he had any leftover at the end of the night he would be shocked. After Cassius Warrington arrived and handed him a large bottle of top-shelf fire whiskey he searched for Pansy. How fortuitous that she was over by the drink table. 

“Warrington has just arrived!” He put the fire whiskey in the line up of unopened bottles. “Is that everyone?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Pansy beamed. “Look, everyone is getting along and having a good time. We did good.”

“You did good, I just showed up.” He laughed, undoing his bowtie and letting it hang loose around his neck. That felt loads better. 

There were people dancing under the canopy, people sitting around the blazing bonfire, and others were running around chasing each other and being drunken idiots. It was nice seeing so many different personalities meshing into a cohesive unit. 

“Did you ask Harry yet?” She poked his ribs and wiggled her finger, making him laugh.

“I honestly haven’t had the chance. I haven’t seen him since everyone else started to get here.” He moved away from her fingers, trying to dodge the next round of rib poking.

“Well, go get him! He was down by the shore last I saw.” She looked exasperated, but her cheeks were flushed and she gave him a fond glare, so she must not have been too mad.

“Seriously? Right now?”

“Yes! You’ve done your schmoozing. You’re free!” She laughed. “Wait, take this with you, it will calm your nerves.” She handed him the bottle of fire whiskey he had just set down.

“Thanks.” He rolled his eyes, but cracked the bottle open and gulped some down anyway. Flashbacks to making buttons and cold showers surfaced and he grimaced. “Oh, this is that stuff Blaise had back in fourth year.” 

“You better be careful, then.” Pansy gave him a light shove and he got the hint.

“Alright, alright! I’m going.” He raised the hand that was not holding an open bottle up in mock surrender as he backed away.

“You better ask him!” She called as he headed towards the shore.

He flipped her off over his shoulder and took another swig of the fire whiskey. 

Here went nothing.

Harry was sitting alone right where the waves kissed the sand, staring out at the sunset with his arms wrapped around his knees. He didn’t make any form of acknowledgment when Draco approached, appearing to be lost in thought.

“Too many people?” He asked tentatively.

“Too much war talk.” Harry didn’t jump or look over, he just stayed stoic.

“Ah, yes. I can understand that.” Draco toyed with the fire whiskey bottle awkwardly. “That must be the last thing you ever want to talk about.”

“I’m just sick of being praised for something I didn’t even do.” Harry muttered, eyes locked on the horizon.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Harry finally looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Yeah, sure.” He said a little too loudly as he let go of his knees and shifted over unnecessarily. There was plenty of beach, but it was nice that Harry intentionally made room for him anyway.“It’s a beautiful sunset.”

“Thanks.” Draco plopped down next to him and offered him the fire whiskey. “Something for the nerves?”

Another sentence that sounded better in his head. Harry must think he was such an idiot.

“Cheers.” Harry grinned, taking the bottle from him and drinking an impressive amount without making a face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Draco asked after a moment of silence.

“About what? The war?” Harry looked at him like he might be crazy, which was fair. 

“About what you feel you didn’t even do.” Draco shrugged. “Or we can talk about something equally unpleasant, like my time as a Death Eater or shopping with Hermione.”

“Shopping with Hermione is cruel and unusual torture.” Harry snorted and handed back the whiskey bottle. 

“She’s so meticulous. Even if you don’t even want something anymore she still has to do a thorough inspection and research.” Draco was relieved Harry had latched onto the safer topic.

He raised the bottle, then paused as a thought occurred. Harry’s lips touched the same bottle. He allowed himself a self-deprecating laugh before taking a drink. This was probably the closest he would ever get to those lips. 

“And she has to see every available option before she can make a decision. It takes forever.” Harry agreed.

“You haven’t been house shopping with her.” Draco rolled his eyes. “She turned what should have been a three-day venture into a five-day venture.”

“I believe it.” Harry laughed. “Don’t go clothes shopping with her.”

“That sounds terrible.” Draco shuddered, passing the bottle back to Harry. 

“So, I’ve got to ask. What’s with the bowtie?” Harry grinned before taking a long pull from the bottle and trying to hand it back, but Draco shook his head. He placed it in the sand between them, which suited Draco just fine.

“It was a compromise.” Draco sighed.

“What was the compromise?”

“Pansy wanted me to wear it, I didn’t.”

“And yet you’re wearing it.” Harry laughed. “Well, sort of.” He grabbed one of the loose ends and pulled it off his neck.

Draco held his breath when Harry almost touched his skin. He could feel the heat radiating off his fingers and shivered at the barely-there touch.

“Yes, well. Pansy is terrifying, and when she pouts it’s impossible to tell her no.” Draco smiled fondly, running his fingers through the wet sand.

“I can understand that.” Harry smirked. “Hermione and I reached our own type of compromise.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Draco watched Harry weaving his bowtie in between his fingers absentmindedly. It was oddly mesmerizing, watching the silver fabric slip through his russet fingers again and again.

“She wanted me to wear a necklace.”

Draco looked pointedly at his bare chest. There was no telltale chain leading beneath his tan tank top. Now that he was allowed to have more than a cursory glance he saw it had a Kraken dragging a ship down to Davy Jones's locker printed on it. How appropriate for a beach party.

“And?” Draco prompted.

“I didn’t want to.” He shrugged as if that was the end of the matter. 

For Harry, it probably was. What Harry wants, Harry gets. 

“So what was the compromise, then?”

“I didn’t have to wear the necklace if I didn’t tell all of her embarrassing secrets to Pansy.”

Draco laughed at how very Slytherin his little arrangement was.

“Embarrassing secrets, you say?” Draco picked up the bottle and took a quick gulp. “Such as…?” 

“Her failed Polyjuice transformation into a cat in second year.” Harry snickered at the memory.

“How did she get a hold of Polyjuice potion in second year?” Draco was astonished. It should have been impossible for a second year to access Polyjuice potion. He’d tried. 

“We brewed it. Well, she brewed and Ron and I watched.” Harry amended. 

“How did you get permission to attempt such an advanced potion? Snape wouldn’t let me do any extracurricular brewing till fifth year.” Draco did his best not to sound like a petulant child, although he wasn’t sure how well he managed it.

“Er, it wasn’t exactly sanctioned,” Harry admitted. “We stole the ingredients and brewed it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.”

“What? Why?”

“Erm, actually it was to find out if….” Harry glanced over at him guiltily and grabbed the whiskey, taking a swig before putting it back in the sand.

“If?” Draco prompted.

“If you were the Heir of Slytherin.” He grimaced as if confessing a cardinal sin.

“Really? You guys brewed an illegal and infinitely complex potion in a bathroom just to find out if I was the Heir of Slytherin?” He snorted in disbelief. 

“Yes, well it was the only solution we could think of at the time.” Harry sniffed a little defensively.

“Why didn’t you just check the genealogy records? You can trace back my bloodlines for centuries.” Draco stared into the setting sun. 

The sky was painted brilliant shades of pink and orange and blue that reflected stunningly off the water. A thrill ran through him when he realized this was his permanent view now. He actually lived here. 

“I’m sorry, check the what now?” Harry looked dumbfounded. 

“The genealogy records. In the library. All of the sacred twenty-eight bloodlines are meticulously recorded dating back almost nine centuries. Purebloods love proving how pure they are.” He scoffed.

“The sacred twenty-eight?” Harry glanced over at him in confusion and Draco’s jaw dropped for a moment.

“Merlin, Potter. You don’t know who the sacred twenty-eight are? Sometimes I forget you were raised by muggles, then something like this happens.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Something like what?” He asked a little defensively.

“Like you not knowing basic wizarding facts that us purebloods grow up knowing.” He sighed. “It’s not your fault, and it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. It just...surprises me sometimes, don’t take it personally.” 

“Oh.” He said simply, fidgeting with the hem of his shorts. “Well, maybe you could...bring me up to speed?”

Was he joking? Draco narrowed his eyes and scrutinized his expression to see if there was any hint of deception, but Harry’s eyes were open and honest, if a little bloodshot from drinking.

“It would take much too long to get into it tonight.” He said slowly. Harry looked disappointed for a moment and Draco couldn’t believe it could really be this easy. “We could discuss it over coffee or something?”

“Coffee?” He looked up hopefully

“Yeah, or whatever you’d prefer, on a day where we have more time?” Draco really hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“Oh, yeah. I think I’d like that.” Harry smiled and for a moment Draco was stunned by how beautiful he was. 

“Ari normally gives me Saturdays off, if you want to meet up tomorrow?” Draco hoped he wasn’t pressing his luck, but he felt like if he didn’t get a solid commitment now the coffee date would never happen.

“I try not to work weekends, so that should be alright. Sometimes I get called in, but I can probably tell them to sod off if that happens. The head of the MLE is a Potter-rotter.”

“I’m sorry, she’s a what?” Draco choked on the fire whiskey he had been trying to drink.

“Potter-rotter. It’s what I call the people who fall over themselves because I’m famous.” Harry shrugged.

“Interesting.” Draco tried not to laugh.

“I got it from Peeves. You know, that song he made up in second year? ‘Oh Potter, you rotter’?”

“Course.” Draco chuckled. “Makes perfect sense when you put it like that.”

“What would you call them, then?” Harry challenged.

“What? Your Potter-rotters? Oh, I don’t know, lemmings?” 

“That’s not-” Harry paused, “actually that’s not half bad. It sort of...rolls of the tongue better, doesn’t it?” 

“Don’t change anything on my account.” Draco grinned.

“We’ll see if it sticks.” Harry shot him a lopsided smile and Draco’s heart melted just a little bit.

“Oh! I’ve found him!” A female voice shouted from much too close.

Both boys turned at the noise and Harry groaned when he caught sight of the Ravenclaw girl that had come with Neville.

“Lemmings?” Draco arched an eyebrow as they heard multiple voices shouting excitedly and getting closer.

“Lemmings.” Harry nodded solemnly. 

“Let’s lose them, then.” Draco stood up and held a hand out for Harry. 

Harry took it with an impish grin and Draco apparated them about a mile down the beach. They could still see the bonfire in the distance and hear shouts of laughter and the occasional strain of music. 

“Thanks for that, Pansy said she didn’t invite any lemmings but one or two always seems to slip through.” Harry dropped his hand quickly and Draco tried to pretend like it didn’t sting.

“Oh, anything for the famous Harry Potter.” He teased.

“Shut up.” Harry laughed.

“Oh! Damn.”

“What?” Harry looked alarmed.

“We left the fire whiskey.” He groaned.

“We could head back on foot. By the time we get back to the party the excitement over finding me will have died down.” Harry suggested.

“Alright.” Draco agreed readily. 

He hadn’t really thought this through. Apparating away with Harry Potter, what was he thinking? They started to walk back in silence, but then Harry knocked him sideways with his shoulder.

“Do you want to know what happened with the Polyjuice potion?” He grinned.

“Oh, Merlin. What?” Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Ron and I turned into Crabbe and Goyle and you let us into the Slytherin common room.”

“I what?!”

They swapped stories all the way back to their spot on the beach, which as Harry predicted, was empty again. It was nice and strangely familiar like they had been friends all along. Eventually, they got cold and headed up to the fire where they were pulled into different directions, but Draco didn’t mind. They had a coffee date tomorrow.

“Hey!” Pansy grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side while he was making a snack plate for himself.

“Hey.” He laughed at her eager expression.

“Did you-”

“I did. We’re meeting for coffee tomorrow.” He grinned, feeling strangely triumphant.

“Oh, I knew he’d say yes!” She squealed. “Wait, are you going as friends, or…?”

“Friends, I think. I offered to catch him up on all of the intricacies of pureblood customs and backgrounds.”

“Oh, how boring.” Pansy stuck out her tongue in distaste, clearly tipsy.

“He wants to learn, and more importantly it guarantees more than one...encounter. You know how convoluted our history is.” He smirked. 

“Very good point.” She conceded, then softened. “I’m proud of you, you did it!”

“Thanks.” He snorted.

“Any time, I’m here to help.” she giggled before stalking off, presumably to go find Hermione.

Harry was on the other side of the canopy talking to the Weaselette and Longbottom. He looked perfectly at ease and Draco had a hard time looking away. Emerald eyes flicked over and met his gaze for a heart-stopping moment. He flashed Draco a warm smile before turning back to his friends and Draco sighed. Here he was, staring at Harry from across a crowd of their peers. 

Somethings never change.


	21. In which Draco is reminded he's a Black and Lucius owns up to the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco wakes up slightly hungover from his housewarming party and finds a pile of thoughtful gifts on his table. Narcissa goes into protective momma mode and Lucius comes to terms with how he acted under the Dark Lord's influence. Hermione subtly nettles Draco to do something about his feelings for Harry and Pansy forces him to wear eyeliner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! I keep writing longer and longer chapters, so sorry this is late but I had to heavily edit it, take some things out, and save some things for the next chapter. I realize I have been sticking with Draco's POV for a hot minute, but don't worry! The next chapter will start in from Harry's perspective. I am so excited! We are so close to this slow-burn finally catching flame! As always, super huge thank you to my lovely beta readers, AlexClio and SandZhark! If you've stuck with me this long, thank you! If you're just joining this WIP, welcome! If you like what you're reading, leave some kudos and a comment! If you hate it, leave a comment on how I can be better. Comments fuel my creative fire! Happy reading!

Draco rolled over and glared at the sunlight that was streaming through his bedroom window. It was much too bright for his liking. He was about to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep when a jolt of excitement struck him like lightning. 

He had a coffee date with Harry today.

He sat up quickly, then groaned as his head swam. Water. He needed water. His mouth felt like sandpaper and he smelled like stale booze so he amended his plan. He needed water, and then he needed a shower. He took a deep breath as he tried to gather the motivation to leave his comfortable bed.

Twenty minutes later found him freshly showered, properly hydrated, and putting the kettle on. While he waited for the water to boil he found a very small pile of neatly wrapped gifts on his kitchen table. Apparently, not everyone had brought alcohol. He sat down and picked up the smallest one curiously. It was from Pansy and it looked like a new sketchbook but was oddly heavy. He carefully opened the pretty silver wrapping paper, folded it, and set it aside before flipping the nondescript wooden box over in his hands. There was a latch on the side so he undid it and lifted the lid. 

Inside were multiple rows of oil paints and every type of paintbrush Draco could imagine. Pansy must have cast an undetectable extension charm on it to fit everything in. There was a small note nestled behind the brushes and Draco pulled it out, grinning like a fool at Pansy’s thoughtfulness.

A fresh set of paints and brushes for my favorite artist. The rest of your present is already set up in the living room. Love, Pansy 

Draco immediately pushed back from the table and raced into his living room. An ornate easel was set up in front of his bay window with a blank canvas resting on it and a large jug of linseed oil was on the floor next to it. Pansy always knew exactly what to get him. He returned to the kitchen and picked up the next present. This one was from Hermione and it was oddly shaped. It was a struggle to get the wrapping off without ripping it, but he managed. When he finally saw what it was he was pleasantly surprised.

A small basin filled with water replicated waves crashing onto a miniature beach that was littered with tiny little seashells The backdrop depicted the horizon at sunset and had a small note taped to it.

I searched and searched for the perfect gift and couldn’t find it, so I made one. It’s unbreakable and unspillable, so now you can take the ocean with you wherever you go! The charm to turn it on is Oceanum Activum. I hope you like it!

Draco looked down at the basin in wonder. 

Hermione made this? His heart swelled with how much time and effort she must have put into it. He pulled his wand out and muttered the spell. The smell of saltwater and sea brine permeated his kitchen and the sound of the crashing waves echoed off the walls. It was perfect. He made a mental note to go thank both women for their incredible gifts in person later.

Two gifts were left and Draco grabbed the biggest one, carefully unsheathing it from its dark green wrapping. It was a portrait of him and his parents on his fourteenth birthday. It was the last family painting they had done before everything changed. Before the Dark Lord returned. Before the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament. It was the last time they were all happy before the war and he fought back the wave of emotion it brought forth. He brought it into his living room and used a temporary sticking charm to hang it above his mantle. His portrait family smiled approvingly at him and he smiled back before returning to the kitchen for the last present. 

This one was wrapped in black wrapping and didn’t have a name on it. Draco opened it very carefully, curious as to who else would have gotten him something other than alcohol. The box was nondescript and gave nothing away, only containing a serial number and barcode. When he pried back the lid he let out a quiet laugh. It was a tea set. 

He gently unpacked the set from the box and was surprised to see that the black pieces were covered in silver stars. It was beautiful. He looked in the box for a note but there was nothing except a strange white packing material that had been protecting the glass. It hurt his teeth when he accidentally rubbed it together and he shoved the box away in disgust. Why would anyone use that bizarre stuff when they could just use cushioning charms? 

The shrill whistle of the kettle reminded him that he was making tea and he couldn’t help but feel like the mystery gift-giver was a mind reader. He had remembered to buy everything but a tea set when he moved in and had just been making do with pouring the hot water directly into a mug. He turned off the stove and brought the brand new pot over to the counter. It was perfectly round and had an astonishingly accurate star chart painted across it with elegant lines connecting the more well-known constellations. He took the lid off to perform a quick cleaning charm and was surprised to find the elusive note from the giver. 

Draco, 

Happy housewarming. Sorry if you already have one of these, but I saw it and thought of you. Hermione helped me charm the pot so it would show the position of the stars in real-time and I charmed the cups to reflect different members of the House of Black. I thought you might like it.

Cheers,

Harry 

Draco blinked and then read the note again, sure he must have hallucinated the signature. He looked at the pot, then back at the note in shock. That Harry had gotten him a gift at all was surprising enough, but the fact that he had obviously put thought into it and even poured his own magic into it was incredible. He walked back over to the table and picked up one of the cups. The inside of it had the Sirius constellation with its surrounding stars in it. Draco couldn’t help the grin that curled his lips when he picked up the next cup and saw his own constellation twinkling back at him. The other two cups held the Andromeda and Regulus constellations and Draco was touched at how meaningful the entire gift was. Amongst the endless reminders that he was a Malfoy, here was a lovely reminder that he was also a Black. 

He cast cleaning charms on the rest of the set and fixed a proper tea for the first time in weeks. He had never been so giddy to fill a sugar pitcher before. He didn’t even care that he never took sugar in his tea, it was the principal of the matter that he had his own sugar pitcher to fill so he did. When he felt awake enough to face the manor Draco pulled on a nice shirt and some slacks and was about to head out when he caught his reflection in the mirror. 

Was he sure about that shirt with these pants? He would be going to meet Harry for coffee after the manor, shouldn’t he look his best? 

It’s not a date.

Of course he knew that, but he still wanted to dress to impress. It was possibly the closest thing to a date with Harry that he would get. He stared at his reflection critically for a moment, then walked to his closet and pulled out his lucky purple dress shirt. Any time he has worn it things seemed to go his way, and he certainly could use all of the luck he could get today. He changed shirts quickly and returned to the mirror. Something still looked off. He traded his light grey slacks for charcoal grey ones and examined his reflection. Better, but it still felt like something was missing. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, trying to get it to sit just right while he pondered what he needed to make the outfit complete. When the minutes ticked by and he still hadn’t figured it out he gave it up as a bad job and flooed directly to the manor. 

The family room was empty when he arrived and he looked around the vacant room with a hollow feeling in his chest. This was where he had taken the mark. Draco’s eyes fixated on the floor in front of the window and he fancied that he could see the ghost of his sixteen-year-old self crying as his flesh was carved into and burnt off. His mark flared at the remembered pain and he rubbed at it through the sleeve of his shirt almost absentmindedly.

“Master Draco!” A high pitched squeak sounded behind him, breaking him out of his dark musings.

“Hello, Tipsy.” His voice sounded oddly strangled so he cleared his throat. “Will you tell my mother I’m heading to the library to pick up a few books and that I would like to see her if she can spare the time?”

“Yes, Master Draco.” The elf bowed before disappearing with a soft pop. 

He had always loved how quiet Tipsy was when she apparated. Most of the other house-elves made startlingly loud cracks, but not Tipsy. She had been chosen as his main caretaker growing up for that reason and he had grown rather fond of her over the years. 

Draco moved through the never-ending hallways of the manor with practiced ease, taking the quickest route to the family library almost out of habit. When he reached the heavy double doors he didn’t even pause before throwing them open.

That was a mistake.

As soon as they swung outward Draco was assaulted by the vile stench of dark magic. It seeped out of the library, choking him as memories of being forced to torture other Death Eaters while the Dark Lord laughed consumed him. He wasn’t certain how long he stood there gasping for breath before his mother came around the corner.

“Draco?” she slammed the doors shut and pulled him into a comforting embrace. “It’s alright sweetheart, I’m here. You’re safe, I promise.”

“I didn’t mean to-” He tried to talk but his words were cut off by an unexpected sob, causing his mother to hold him tighter. “I never wanted to hurt anyone!”

“I know you didn’t. It’s alright, I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.” She kissed his hair when he bent his head so that he could rest it on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” Draco wasn’t sure if he was repenting for what he had done in the past or for his panic attack, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I- I- I can’t… I’m sorry.”

“Nobody blames you, sweetheart.” She rubbed his back soothingly, whispering reassurances as he cried and choked out useless apologies. 

His chest felt tight- suffocating as if he was being squeezed to death and his head was caught in a loop of terror, shame, and remorse. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. A small part of him recognized he was being irrational. He knew he was overreacting, it was just a stupid room. Every time he was almost able to talk himself down the screams of the people he tortured would play on repeat in his mind and it set him off all over again. When he was finally able to stop his tears and unintelligible stammering his mother tightened her arms around him, allowing him time to calm his erratic breathing enough to where he could speak again.

“I didn’t expect it to affect me so strongly.” He said shakily, pulling out of her embrace and kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“I’m your mother, I will always be here to help you.” She said sternly. “Why on earth were you trying to go in there? I had assumed you would never step foot in the library or the drawing-room ever again.”

“I just wanted some books on pureblood genealogy and customs.” Draco couldn’t look her in the face, and he certainly couldn’t look at the library doors so he stared sullenly down the hallway. 

“I can get them for you, sweetheart. Which ones do you need?” She stroked his face gently before giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“All of them, I suppose?”

“All of them?” She seemed taken aback by the request. “May I ask what for?”

“I’m teaching Harry Potter about pureblood culture, filling in the gaps his muggle upbringing caused. He doesn’t even know about the Sacred Twenty-Eight so I said I would help him get up to speed.” He snuck a glance at her face and saw her expression soften.

“Oh Draco, that's a wonderful idea. I know just what books you need. Why don’t you go visit your father in his study and I’ll bring them to you?” She placed both hands on his shoulders until he met her piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, alright.” He finally nodded and she smiled warmly at him.

“Wonderful. I shan't be long.” She pulled him in for another brief hug before pushing him in the direction of his father’s study.

He gave her one last look that he hoped said everything he wasn’t able to say; I’m sorry, thank you, I love you. 

She gave him an understanding smile before shooing him away. His father’s study wasn’t terribly far from the library and he reached it in record time. He didn’t remember to knock until it was almost too late.

“Come in.” His father’s voice was slightly muffled by the thick door between them. When Draco opened it he looked up in surprise. “Draco! What a wonderful surprise, what are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up some books.” He said casually. 

Even though he had been stripped of his job and title as an Arbiter, Lucius was still dressed in full uniform; black robes, hair pulled back, and he was pouring over a pile of parchment. The familiarity of it all was soothing.

“I see, what do you need? I can grab it for you in a moment, I just want to finish off this letter to my old mentor. He likes to keep in touch.” His father said distractedly, his attention focused on the parchment in front of him. 

“Mother is actually grabbing them for me.” Draco entered the study and hovered awkwardly by the desk.

“What brings you to my study, then?” His father seemed perplexed.

Draco couldn’t blame him. Growing up he had always avoided his father’s study because it gave him the creeps. There was something about the disapproving portraits of his ancestors and the macabre sculpture his father used to keep in the corner that was unsettling. 

“Mother sent me here because I had a panic attack trying to get them myself.” He admitted, ashamed of his weakness.

He normally would not have told his father about his mortifying inability to enter a room in his own house, but their relationship had changed since the war ended. Still, he braced for the ridicule he had come to expect in years past.

“Why would you try to get them yourself? Oh, you poor boy.” His father laid down his quill and pushed back from his desk, coming around to embrace him in a hug.

Draco was still thrown off by how affectionate his father was now that he was free of the Dark Lord’s influence. It was like night and day. He relaxed into his embrace after a moment and allowed himself to be comforted.

“I don’t want to be scared of a bloody room. It’s pathetic. So I tried to...and I just couldn’t...why am I so worthless?” He hated that his voice broke on the last word.

“Come here, son.” His father led him to the small sofa he kept by the fireplace, sitting down and patting the cushion next to him.

Draco took a deep breath before obeying the silent command, staring into the empty grate instead of meeting his father’s questioning gaze. 

“Draco, look at me.” He said softly. When Draco complied he gave him a small smile. “You are far from worthless, and you’re certainly not pathetic. You suffered more in your first eighteen years of life than most people suffer in an entire lifetime. I know I am partially responsible for that, and words cannot express how truly sorry I am for the part I played. I know I wasn’t a good father-”

“You were a good father, don’t say that. You made sure I was taken care of and raised properly and-”

“No, I wasn’t. I appreciate you saying that, but I was a terrible father. Beyond making sure all of your material needs were met I was grossly negligent, and it pains me to know that I was often cruel. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, and I fear that these feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy are my fault.” His father looked like he was in pain, but when Draco opened his mouth to object he held up a finger to stop him from interrupting. “Draco, I want you to know that you are incredible. You’re the best son I could have ever asked for and a better man than I could ever hope to be. You’re strong, and brave, and intelligent- sometimes I wonder if you’re even mine. I am so proud of you. You’ve grown into a fine young man with a good head on your shoulders despite my bad parenting. You’re not worthless, you’re irreplaceable.”

“You are?” His voice cracked annoyingly again, but he hardly cared. He had been striving to hear those words for nearly his entire life.

“What? Proud of you? Immensely so.”

“Thank you, I… you have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.” Draco could feel tears starting to spill over onto his cheeks so he buried his face in his hands. 

He felt his father’s steady hands pulling him into a more comfortable position against his chest. He hadn’t sat like this in years, curled up in his father’s arms with his head buried in his chest- it was equal parts awkward and reassuring. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t said it more often. I love you, Draco.” He said gently.

“I love you too.” He paused, making sure the words were true before he voiced them. “I forgive you, you know. For everything. I don’t hold any of it against you.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you as a son.” His father kissed his hair and tightened his arms around him. 

His voice sounded tight and Draco wasn’t sure but it sounded like he might have been crying. He was saved from having to respond by the study door flying open.

“Draco, I pulled everything I thought would help and a few books that he might like to read concerning his lineage as well.” His mother walked in with a rather large pile of shrunken books in her hands.

She blinked a few times in surprise to find her two normally unaffectionate men snuggled up on the sofa, but she knew better than to mention it.

“That’s perfect, mother. Thank you.” He sighed, shifting into a slightly more relaxed position against his father’s chest.

“I’m always happy to help.” She flashed him a warm smile before setting the books down on his father’s desk and taking a seat in the armchair across from them.

“We’re both always happy to help.” His father added quietly. “You don’t have to face any of this alone.”

“I know, I just- it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s perfectly normal. You’re allowed to be uncomfortable, alright?” His mother reached across and squeezed his knee reassuringly. 

“Okay.” He said quietly. His eyes landed on the portrait of his grandfather above his father’s fireplace and it reminded him of his gifts. “Oh! Thank you for the painting. I hung it above my mantle.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I know that one was always your favorite.” His mother looked pleased. “I thought your home could use a bit of the familial touch.”

“I love it.” He assured her. “Oh! Speaking of, did you know Harry Potter got me a housewarming gift?”

“Did he? How charming.” His father sounded amused.

“What did he get you?” His mother shot a conspiratorial look at his father and Draco frowned in confusion. 

“A tea set that looks like the night sky. It’s quite beautiful actually, and he even charmed the cups to reflect the constellations of members of the House of Black. I thought it was a nice reminder that I’m also a Black.”

“Really? He charmed them himself?” His father’s tone was still suspiciously playful.

“He said he did in the note. He even charmed the pot to reflect the position of the stars in real-time. It’s quite remarkable. You will have to come over for tea sometime so I can show it to you.”

“That sounds lovely. Did you want to do tea this afternoon?” His mother shot his father a quelling look.

“I’m actually meeting Potter for coffee at eleven, and I don’t have another morning off until Wednesday.” His father’s chest started shaking so Draco pulled away and sat up properly to glare at him. 

“You have a date with Potter?” He was trembling with barely controlled laughter.

“It’s not a date. I’m helping him learn more about pureblood culture.” He sniffed.

“Of course it isn’t, sweetheart.” His mother smirked and for some reason, he felt his face grow hot. 

“I-”

“We know, Draco. It’s quite alright.” His father snickered.

“Know what?”

“That you have feelings for the boy. It’s painfully obvious.”

“It is?” His heart felt like it might explode in its second panic attack for the day.

“It is for us.” His mother amended. “We are your parents, we tend to notice the little things.”

Draco braced for the onslaught of ‘purebloods aren’t gay’ and ‘you need to marry and produce an heir’ lectures but instead his parents just looked at him with fond amusement.

“You don’t care that I’m...gay?” He couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

He had just dropped by for a couple of books and now he was coming out to his parents? 

“Absolutely not! We love you and want you to be happy.” His mother looked offended at the thought.

“How long have you known?” He squawked indignantly.

All of that fear of being found out was for nothing?

“What, that you’re gay? Or that you’re gay for Harry Potter?” His father asked with a straight face.

“Oi, it sounds embarrassing when you say it like that.” He huffed. “Both?”

“We’ve always known you were gay. As for the Potter boy, I suppose it was since that first letter you sent home when you went off to Hogwarts. There was only one line about your classes, and one line asking how your mother and I were. The rest was all about Potter.”

“He was all you talked about that first summer.” His mother added sagely. 

“Oh.” He blinked. “I suppose Pansy was right, then.”

“That girl usually is.” His mother laughed.

“Speaking of, I should get going. I still need to drop by the villa and thank the girls for their thoughtful gifts as well.” Draco stood up quickly and grabbed the stack of shrunken books off the desk, eager to get away from what had become a very awkward situation.

“Alright, son. Have fun and good luck on your….not date.” His father teased.

“I love you, be good.” His mother rose to give him a quick embrace. 

“Always am.” He shot her a cheeky wink before darting out the door. 

He quickly made his way back to the family room and flooed to the villa without looking back. Hermione was reading on the couch and Pansy was just walking into the den when he stepped out of their fireplace. 

“Draco! I didn’t expect-” Pansy started then stopped short. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” He queried as he brushed the soot neatly from his shirt.

“You’ve been crying.” She accused.

“I have?” He had already nearly forgotten about his mortifying display of emotions.

“Come off it, what happened? Did Harry cancel on you?” She crossed the room and studied his face.

“What? No, I just came from the Manor.” He shot her a confused look.

“Oh! Did you have a panic attack?” She hummed sympathetically.

“No, well- I did, but that’s beside the point.” He waved her off. “My father actually apologized for how he treated me growing up.”

“Seriously?” Hermione shut her book and came to join them by the hearth. “That’s wonderful!”

“That’s not even the weirdest part.” He couldn’t help the bewildered grin that he could feel stretching across his lips.

“What’s the weirdest part?”

“They know I’m gay, and they don’t care. They just want me to be happy.”

“I told you.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Oh Draco, I’m so happy for you.” Hermione wrapped him in a hug.

“I know, my mother said you’re always right.” He laughed, returning Hermione’s embrace enthusiastically. 

His father had said he was proud of him, his parents didn’t care that he wouldn’t give them an heir, and he had a non-date with Harry Potter. The day was shaping up to be pretty fantastic.

“Alright, enough affection.” Pansy groused. “You. Bathroom. Now.”

“I don’t have to go.” He suddenly got the feeling he wouldn’t like what came next.

“Good, because that isn’t why we’re going in there.” She retorted before grabbing his hand, dragging him through the villa, up the stairs, and into her bathroom with Hermione trailing behind.

“I’d just let her do whatever it is she wants to do to you. I’ve found it’s much easier that way.” Hermione chuckled when he gave her a pleading look.

“Sit.” Pansy ordered, pointing at the toilet distractedly as she started digging through her makeup bag.

“What are you going to do?” He sighed, obeying with what he thought to be very good grace.

“You can’t go on your date with Harry looking like that.” Pansy scoffed.

“What my darling girlfriend means,” Hermione gave Pansy a fond glare behind her back “is that she wants to fix your red eyes so it doesn’t look like you’ve just been crying.”

“It isn’t a date.” He protested weakly.

“Call it what you want, just hold still.” Pansy apparently found what she had been looking for because she was kneeling in front of him with a determined expression on her face. 

Draco did his best to be patient while she dabbed a small amount of a cream-colored substance under his eyes, but when she pulled out a black stick and tried to touch his eyes with it he jerked back.

“Oi! Don’t poke my eye out with that thing.”

“It’s just eyeliner, you big baby.” She tutted, grabbing his chin with one hand and forcing him to tilt his face up. “It will draw attention away from the redness in your eyes.”

“Won’t I look ridiculous?” He whined.

“I think you’ll pull it off.” Hermione sounded like she was trying not to laugh, which was not altogether encouraging. 

“I came by to thank you for your wonderful housewarming gifts and I get assaulted.” He sighed dramatically. “Remind me to send a thank-you note instead next time.”

“Oh! You found them, then?” Pansy sounded delighted as she ran the eyeliner across his lower lid.

“I did. Thank you for the painting supplies, I was just thinking about buying some.” He did his best not to flinch.

“You’re welcome.” Pansy gave him a small smile before attacking his other eye.

“Your gift was incredible, Hermione. How did you get it to smell like the ocean?”

“I used the same charm theory George uses to make dung bombs, but with water I took from the ocean. It was a little difficult, but I got it in the end. I’m glad you like it.” Hermione beamed at him from her post by the door.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” He winced as Pansy rubbed at his undereye with her thumb.

“Did you get Harry’s gift?” Hermione asked.

“I did. It was very thoughtful, and I needed a tea set too.” He was glad Pansy was still poking at his eyes so he didn’t have to see the knowing look in both of theirs.

“He will be happy to hear that. You should invite him over for tea to thank him." Hermione's tone was much too innocent.

"Right." He snorted derisively. 

“I think that should do it. What do you think, love?” Pansy pulled back and studied his face critically. 

“Oh, he looks wonderful.” Hermione hummed in agreement. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He muttered, pushing off of their toilet and rushing to the mirror. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say at first. He was too mesmerized by how much brighter his eyes looked against the black eyeliner. 

“Well? Do you like it?” Pansy huffed impatiently. 

“It doesn’t look horrible.” He conceded, tilting his head to see it from different angles. 

“Shut up, it looks great.” She rolled her eyes.

“I think it highlights the silver in your eyes and complements the rich color of your shirt.” Hermione came up behind him and caught his gaze in the mirror.

“You know what? I think you’re right.” He smiled.

The eyeliner brought everything together and he finally felt ready for his non-date.


	22. In which Draco does something nice and Harry finds his new favorite thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a lot to learn about Pureblood customs and history. Draco might just have the patience to teach him. What started as a form of tutoring has lead to an unlikely friendship, and Draco is rather peeved to discover it's possible to fall even more in love with someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I am being (jokingly) THREATENED and (lovingly) BULLIED to hurry things along till we get to THE KISS. SO. Here is the next chapter one week ahead of schedule. If you feel cheated out of the string of non-dates, worry not! AFTER I get to the kiss, I will take time out to write some up for the Outtakes and Oneshots series and you will be able to find them there. As always, a huge thank you to my darling AlexClio and my lovely SandZhark for beta reading for me! This is officially the longest story I've ever written and it's largely thanks to them and their continued support (and death threats and bullying, of course)  
> If you've stuck with me this long, thank you. Words cannot express my appreciation for you! If you're just joining this WIP, welcome! If you like what you're reading, leave kudos and a comment! If you don't like it, leave a comment on what I can do better. Your comments fuel my creative fire! Happy reading!

Harry tugged at his shirt nervously, frowning at his reflection. He wasn’t entirely sure why he suddenly cared about what he wore. Maybe shopping with Hermione the other day had shamed some semblance of fashion sense into him. Well, if a clean Radiohead t-shirt and his nicest pair of jeans counted as fashion sense. 

“You look fine, it’s almost time!” His mirror chirped at him and he gave it a sullen glare.

“Remind me why I don’t just get rid of you.” He muttered.

“Don’t be rude.” It chided. 

If it wasn’t Sirius’s mirror he would have chucked it out long ago. It weirded him out at first, but now it was just another part of his daily routine. 

“Do I really look fine?” He fidgeted with the hem once more.

“You look great, go now or you’ll be late!”

Harry glanced at the watch Molly had given him when he came of age and was startled to realize the mirror was right. He gave his unruly hair one last exasperated comb through with his fingers and made his way downstairs. 

“You off for your date with Malfoy?” Ron called from the drawing-room as he passed.

Grimmauld Place was quickly becoming the go-to place for whenever someone needed a break from their own home. Harry both loved and hated the constant company, but his pride that he had managed to make the old townhouse comfortable enough to turn it into an escape eclipsed his annoyance. Ron was here more often than not lately, and even Pansy and Hermione stayed over when they had business in town. George, Luna, and Neville also flitted in and out at their leisure, though they rarely ever stayed for more than a night. On a few occasions, Bill and Fleur also claimed a room when Bill’s job brought him anywhere near London. For the most part, it was nice having someone to share this big empty space with. Today, however, he could have done without Ron’s presence.

“It’s not a date.” Harry huffed, stopping to spare Ron a fond glare.

“I mean, you’ve already cleaned each other's faces. I’m pretty sure the next step is marriage.” Ron smirked.

“Sod off!” Harry flushed in embarrassment. “He had mead dribbling from his chin, it looked ridiculous!”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen you cleaning anyone else's face off. It’s kind of intimate, ‘innit?” He grinned suggestively, causing more heat to rise to Harry’s cheeks.

“It’s not intimate!” 

“Would you clean my face off?” Ron challenged.

That pulled him up short. The truth was he wouldn’t. For whatever reason cleaning Ron’s face for him would be weird, but cleaning Draco’s wasn’t. He couldn’t say exactly what made it different, it just was.

“I- that’s not the same! You’re my best mate, I’d be more likely to laugh at you.” He said stubbornly. 

“All I’m saying is you could do a lot worse than Malfoy.” Ron threw his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’m going to be late.” He said instead of dignifying that comment with a response.

“Good luck with your date!” Ron snickered as Harry stormed down the hall. 

As soon as he was outside he apparated to the alley next to his favorite muggle coffee shop. Draco had said meeting somewhere muggle would be better, considering Harry’s lemmings and the fact that most of wizarding Britain still hated him because he was a Death Eater. Harry had been mildly surprised Draco knew the shop he was talking about when he suggested it as their meet up spot. Then he remembered bringing Pansy here on more than one occasion and he realized she must have brought Draco. 

The street was relatively empty for midmorning and Harry wondered idly about the lack of foot traffic. When he reached the cafe, however, all other thoughts were driven from his mind. 

Draco was already there, sipping a coffee and avidly reading a large book that he had propped up in front of him. Harry blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Was Draco wearing eyeliner? His hair had grown out while he was being held at the Ministry, but it looked like he had gotten it cut recently. It was still longer than he had worn it at school, though, and it seemed to be missing the copious amounts of product he used to use. Harry thought it looked better this way, softer and more natural. The dark purple of his shirt offset his pale skin and the shirt clung to his shoulders in a way that made Harry's stomach do a weird little flip. 

Harry had never seen a guy wear eyeliner before. Well, besides rockstars but somehow he didn’t think they counted. Draco looked fantastic in it though. Harry couldn’t help but stare as Draco touched his lips absentmindedly, brows furrowed in deep thought. The thin black lines accentuated his vibrant silver eyes and somehow made his elegant features look sharper, more in focus. It wasn’t until somebody entered the shop behind him, jostling him because he had been blocking the door, that Harry realized he had been just standing there gawking. 

“Oh, sorry.” Harry offered an awkward apology to the stranger before approaching the front counter. 

He was about to order his usual when Pansy’s words from Mestizo’s echoed in his mind, daring him to branch out a little. He quickly ordered the first thing that caught his fancy and left a five pound note in the tip jar. When he had his latte and warm wild berry scone in hand he headed over to join Draco.

“You’re late, Potter.” Draco didn’t bother to look up from his book as Harry slid into the booth.

“I know, I’m sorry. Ron wouldn’t shut up.” Harry flushed as he settled in.

“Well, if it’s the Weasel’s fault, you’re excused then.” Draco glanced up at the apology and his eyes flashed in what he hoped was amusement.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.” Harry blinked. 

“Only about ten minutes.” Draco closed the tome and set it aside, giving him his undivided attention. 

“Right,” Harry took a nibble of his scone, unsure if he should break eye contact now that it had been established. “So, er, where do you want to start?”

“Straight to business, then.” Draco almost smiled. “I brought a number of books along detailing the rich history of pureblood culture. I won’t force you to read them all, but you can take them home to browse through if you’d like.”

Harry took a sip of his latte and grimaced as Draco pulled out an intimidating pile of ancient-looking texts and placed them on the table.

“Was the face for the coffee or the amount of reading material?” Draco arched his eyebrows at him.

“The coffee. I took Pansy’s advice and tried something new. I don’t like it.” Harry wrinkled his nose at the strange nutty flavor that was lingering on his tongue. 

“Here, try mine. If you like it we can switch.” Draco offered him his cup.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained I suppose.” Harry tried not to look too reluctant at the thought of trying another new thing. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he detested change. New was daunting, there were too many unknowns. He’d had quite enough of uncertainty during the war- everything was constantly changing. There was no normal, no routine- and that’s exactly what Harry had grown to love. He braced himself for the worst and took a hesitant sip of Draco’s drink. Sweet and bitter flavors combined to create a unique taste that wasn’t half bad. 

“Is it better?” Draco arched an eyebrow at him.

“Much better. What is it?” He tried to hand the cup back but Draco rolled his eyes and reached over to grab Harry’s latte instead.

“It’s a mocha cappuccino with a shot of espresso. I like the mixture of chocolate and coffee.” Draco gave his latte a tentative sniff. “What did you get?”

“A toffee flavored latte. It sounded good, but it tastes horrible. You don’t have to drink it, I can go buy something else.” He tried to hand Draco his cappuccino back again but Draco waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He took a cautious sip and his expression turned thoughtful. “It’s not too bad. I don’t think I’ll ever order it, but I don’t mind drinking this one.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He took another, longer sip as if to prove his point.

“Thank you.” Harry stared down at the cappuccino, oddly touched by the gesture.

“I should be thanking you, actually.” Draco hummed as he set down the latte.

“What? Why?”

“For the tea set. I actually needed one, and the constellation charms were very thoughtful, so thank you.” Draco’s eyes melted into molten silver and Harry forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like it.” He coughed and shifted his attention to the pile of books on the edge of the table. “All of these are about pureblood culture?”

“They’re the most relevant.” Draco cast the pile a wary look. “There are quite a bit more, but those are mostly just stuffy volumes full of prejudiced rhetoric or ancestral records for the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“You mean there are more than this?” Harry felt slightly overwhelmed by how much he had to learn. “Being a pureblood must be suffocating. No wonder you were such a little twat.”

Harry regretted the comment as soon as it left his mouth. Draco was trying to help him. He shouldn’t be insulting the person who was dedicating time and effort into teaching him. To his immense relief, however, Draco laughed. Harry was caught off guard by the way his face lit up in amusement.

“You’re not wrong.” He chuckled. “It’s why most Slytherins are such twats, actually. The halfbloods are alright because most of them didn’t have this shite pounded into them from birth.”

“That sounds horrible.” Harry said dryly.

“It was. Still is, in fact. Being both a Black and a Malfoy means I’m doubly screwed.” Draco snorted before taking another drink.

“Why is that?” Harry’s thoughts strayed to Sirius and how much he hated being a Black. He had thought it was just because Sirius’s parents were blood purists, but the way Draco said that made him start to wonder.

“The Sacred Twenty-Eight is comprised of the twenty-eight families whose blood is completely pure dating back for centuries. Some of these families are distant descendants of the four founders of Hogwarts, although the surnames have gotten lost over the decades. The Slytherin family, for instance-”

“Married into the Gaunt family.” Harry finished the sentence, happy to know at least something. “But that line died out completely because Morfin and Voldemort both never had children.”

Draco shuddered at the mention of Voldemort’s name but didn’t squawk in fear like most people. Harry was oddly impressed.

“That’s correct.” He said after a moment. “How did you know that?”

“Dumbledore had me study Voldemort’s past because he thought it would help me defeat him. Unfortunately, that’s where my pureblood knowledge ends though.” Harry took another bite of his scone as an excuse for something to do.

“Well, that’s a start.” Draco pulled a book out of the stack and thumbed through it until he found the page he was looking for. “Here, this is a list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight in order of magical power.”

Harry took the book and read through the list quickly. He was surprised to recognize most of the names of people he knew in school. What Draco said about power finally clicked and he glanced up at him curiously.

“The Blacks and Malfoys are at the top of this list.” He commented.

“Yes, and the Parkinsons. Those families make up the Elite Three, meaning that they are the three most powerful and respected bloodlines. If there were such a thing as wizarding royalty, the crown would be restricted to those three families.” Draco said with a detached air.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re royalty?” Harry wasn’t sure if he should be in awe or be amused, so he went for both. 

“It’s a metaphor, Potter.” He snipped. “I was trying to compare it to your muggle monarchy so it would be easy to understand.”

“Please, continue, your highness.” Harry smirked.

“Don’t be difficult.” Draco glared at him, the black eyeliner making his eyes smolder. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry tried to stifle his laughter. “The Elite Three are powerful bloodlines.”

“Right.” Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “As you’re well aware, blood purity does not necessarily equal power. There are muggleborns and halfbloods that are immensely more powerful than most purebloods. Great examples of this being Hermione and yourself-”

“Wait, what do you mean by power?” Up until Draco had mentioned his name he had assumed Draco was talking about social and political power.

“I mean magical power, obviously.” Draco rolled his eyes, then shot Harry a concerned glance. “You do know about the difference between magics, don’t you?”

“Er, you mean like charms versus transfiguration?” He hedged, feeling hot under the collar. 

He knew Draco wasn’t trying to make him feel stupid. The entire point of this meeting was to help him understand, but he still felt guilt and shame for being so clueless about his own people.

“Merlin, I-” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “No, that is not what I’m talking about. Magical power is something you’re born with. Sometimes it can run in families, but mostly it’s determined by your personal potential. Surely you’ve noticed that Hermione is much more powerful than the Weasel, yes? She can perform spells that he couldn’t hope to attempt in his dizziest daydreams?”

“I’m sure if he put in enough effort he could-”

“No, he can’t. He doesn’t have the necessary magical power.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Harry tried not to sound pathetic.

“How do I explain this?” Draco frowned. “Let’s pretend that magical power is like books, yeah? Some books are thick volumes full of interesting facts and useful information. They aren’t full of rich text because they put in the effort, they just are. Likewise, small chapter books meant for children will always be just that- they can’t increase their size or change their content by working at it. Does that make sense?”

“So you’re saying Hermione is ‘Hogwarts: A History’ and Ron is ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So what am I then? ‘Gadding with Ghouls’?” Harry snorted at his own self-deprecating humor.

“More like ‘Magical Me’.” Draco smiled a true, genuine smile for the first time since Harry had known him.

Well, it was the first time he had personally seen a smile that wasn’t full of disdain or taunting from Draco, and Harry felt like the world paused at that moment. 

Godric, what was happening? The way Draco’s eyes glinted with amusement and his lips curved made his heart stutter. 

Draco Malfoy was bloody attractive. When did that happen?

“You have a nice smile.” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. 

“I do?” Draco arched an eyebrow at him, but he kept the smile on his face- for which Harry was strangely thankful.

“You do.” Harry was kicking himself internally. The damage was already done so he threw caution to the wind and added “You should wear eyeliner more often too, it suits you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave him a quizzical look, but he was still smiling so Harry didn’t rightly care. “Now...where was I?”

Harry found that magical history was much more interesting, not to mention more retainable when Draco was the one teaching it to him. With Professor Binns Harry would watch the clock, with Draco he was shocked to discover that two hours had passed. Granted, they hadn’t discussed wizarding history the entire time. Harry had actually made a bit of a game out of making Draco smile, and it was quickly becoming his new favorite thing. So far he had succeeded thirteen times. By the time they finally parted ways they had a solid plan to meet up again the next day for their lunch break, and Harry had a pocket full of shrunken books to read.  
***  
“You look excited.” Arimere winked lavishly as Draco pulled off his uniform vest and fixed his hair. “Got a hot date?”

“It’s not a date.” He said automatically but shot him a wink back. 

“You like him though.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Very much.” He admitted, ducking to check his reflection in an artfully hung mirror.

“Does he have a name?” Ari persisted. 

“Not a chance.” Draco laughed. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Have fun!” Ari called after him as he quickly exited the gallery. 

He was meeting Harry just up the street for lunch so he decided to walk. The sun was shining and the streets of Barnton were filled with happy shoppers slurping ice creams and laughing together. It was picture perfect. Heat simmered off the tarmac and Draco rolled up his sleeves. Summer was in full swing. 

Things had been going pretty great. He had been able to successfully avoid the general public during the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, he had- well, Pansy had thrown a successful housewarming party, he had good friends to look after him, he had a full-time job and a solid excuse to spend some quality time with Harry. Even officially coming out to his parents had gone rather well. 

He should have known it was too good to last. He had been free for an entire month without too much trouble.

“That’s the dark mark!” One woman gasped grotesquely, pointing at him with open disdain.

Draco swore and pulled his sleeve back down, but it was too late. What was done could not be undone. The entire street seemed to converge on him, shouting angrily and hurling insults at him.

“Death Eater scum!” A father of two snarled, shielding his sons as if the very sight of Draco was indecent.

“Charlatan! Vile trash!” An elderly hag with a black veil covering her face pointed a gnarled finger in his face and Draco dodged around her, desperately looking for an escape route. 

“How dare you strut about, boasting that mark so brazenly?” A younger witch hissed, pulling away from him as if he were venomous when someone in the angry mob shoved him towards her. 

“You should be in Azkaban!” An old lady screamed shrilly.

“You’re a disgrace, you are!” A balding wizard hurled out.

“Malfoy filth.” Someone actually spat at him, phlegm landing mere inches short of its mark.

Before Draco was even aware of what was happening two wizards had grabbed him from behind and held him still while the others swarmed around him. A number of people gave him a swift kick anywhere they could reach while others opted to use their fists. There were some, however, that must have been unsatisfied with the spittle falling short because they made sure to hit him this time around. 

Draco didn’t try to fight back at first. It was easier to let them have their petty revenge. He felt they were quite entitled to find their closure over the war. When familiar muggle trainers running towards the commotion caught his attention, however, he sighed.

He followed the feet up to their owner and cursed his luck. It was Harry quickly moving towards the crowd from half a block away. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to see him like this. Draco gathered his strength, pulling magic to him like a dragon hoarding precious gems. He was a Black and a Malfoy. These weaklings didn’t stand a chance. 

He threw them off of him and pulled his wand, pointing it at the two who had captured him.

“That’s quite enough.” His voice was thick with power. “I’m sorry for any way my family may have personally wronged you. If we haven’t, then I kindly suggest you sod off.”

The crowd seemed to take offense to that, but Harry had finally arrived in all of his glory.

“Is there a problem here?” Harry asked innocently as Draco cast a quick scourgify to clean up the spit and dirt clinging to his clothes.

“Potter!”

“It’s Harry Potter!”

The crowd seemed to forget his existence entirely in favor of fawning after Harry. Draco wasn’t sure if that irked him or not.

“No problem, just a friendly chat.” Draco sauntered over to him.

“You’re late, Malfoy.” Harry smiled.

“Ah, yes, sorry about that. I was...delayed.” Draco cast an irritated glance at the crowd who were now watching their interaction speechlessly.

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re forgiven.” Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling him down the last few feet to the cafe they were supposed to meet at. 

“Thanks.” Draco rolled his eyes theatrically. 

The crowd seemed to still be in shock, letting them pass without further incident. Once they were safely inside, he grabbed Draco by the shoulders and looked him over critically. 

“You alright?” He frowned.

“Never better.” He lied, holding his head high despite the prickles of pain caused by the attack. 

“They did a number on you.” Harry gently ran his thumb across a tender spot on his cheek. 

“I’ll be fine.” He winced. “I’ve had worse.” 

“I’m sorry.” Harry’s eyes were liquid emerald and Draco struggled to stay coherent.

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.” He was touched by Harry’s concern.

“I’m sorry people are assholes, and I'm sorry you have to pay for their stupidity.” Harry’s voice was rich with emotion.

“Thank you.” He swallowed. “Give me a moment to get cleaned up and I’ll be right there?”

“Sure. I can order for you if you want, I know you don’t have a lot of time.”

“Alright.” Draco nodded gratefully.

“What do you want?” 

Draco glanced at the front counter and realized he had no idea what they even served here. “I’ll trust your judgment.” 

“You might regret that.” Harry smirked.

“We shall see.” Draco gave him a quick grin before slipping off to the bathroom.

When he saw his reflection in the mirror he let out a long sigh. 

He looked like crap. 

He set to work casting healing and scouring charms on himself in equal measure. The trickiest part was healing his own ribs. They weren’t broken, thank Salazar, but they were cracked from the multiple kicks and the eye Harry had touched was red and swollen. He thanked his lucky stars he was adept at healing, maintaining a steady stream of magic until all of the throbbing stopped. He studied his reflection critically for a moment before deciding this was as good as it was going to get. He put his wand back in its sheath and fingered the stick of eyeliner Pansy had given him after he told her Harry had complimented it. He already had on a light layer, but it couldn’t hurt to touch it up. He gave in, thickening the black lines beneath his eyes before he left to search for where Harry had gotten to. 

“You look much better.” Harry waved him over to a small table by the window. 

His eyes were drawn to Draco’s and he huffed appreciatively. It ignited a prideful fire in his stomach and he couldn’t help the coy smile that played at his lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Potter.”

“Harry.” He corrected automatically. “Here, I got you a chicken pesto panini. It’s the best sandwich they offer.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Draco derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from the way Harry’s name rolled off his tongue. He took a bite of the sandwich and was pleasantly surprised to find it was delicious. “So where did you want to start today?”

“We don’t have a lot of time today, so I thought we could just...chat.” Harry shrugged. 

“Works for me.” Draco allowed, secretly pleased. “What do you want to chat about?” 

This started a trend of studying one day and getting to know one another better the next. It turned into a long string of lunches and non-dates. They saw each other almost every day for the next few weeks, and Draco was flabbergasted to discover that he could- in fact- fall even harder for Harry sodding Potter. They met at coffee shops and libraries every bit as often as they visited arcades or went flying. On a few occasions, they even took leisurely strolls through parks or museums. 

It came to the point that when Harry had to cancel one of their engagements, Draco wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. First one day passed, then another with no word from Harry and Draco realized just how much he had come to depend on his daily dose of the wizarding savior. He gazed up at the night sky through his glass ceiling, contemplating his next move. Harry had mentioned being able to purge the Manor of its dark magic with the help of a powerful curse breaker when Draco had shared about his panic attacks. It was a bit of a shock, though he supposed it shouldn’t have been, to learn that Harry suffered from panic attacks too. They had a lot more in common than he had ever realized.

As Deputy Head Auror, surely Harry would be more than happy to cleanse the Manor or all of the lingering curses and dark magic. It was a win-win situation. Not only would he be able to visit his parents without being overwhelmed by anxiety, but it would be an excellent excuse to see Harry. He pushed himself off of his black leather couch and strolled over to his desk, grabbing parchment and a quill. 

Dear Harry,

Do you know any good curse breakers?


	23. In which Bill Weasley is a badass and Draco overcomes his fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry asks Bill for a favor and Fleur gets terrifyingly passionate about Harry's mental health. Draco and Hermione share a moment and Draco meets a hot curse breaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! Last chapter till we FINALLY get to the kiss!!! I'm sorry it's so long. My chapters seem to be getting longer and longer as this fic wears on. Let me know in the comments if they're too long or if the new length doesn't bother you! For scientific purposes, of course. If my chapters are getting tedious I will do my best to start breaking them up again, so let me know!  
> As always, a massive shout out to my awesome beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark! They make this entire fic possible.   
> If you've stuck with me this far, thank you! Your reward is coming!!!! If you're just joining, welcome! I hope you're enjoying my fic! If you like what you're reading, leave kudos and a comment. If not, leave a comment on how I can do better. As always; Happy Reading!

Shell Cottage was much as he remembered it; quaint, cozy, and filled with love. He had come over to ask a favor, but Bill and Fleur both insisted on feeding him and catching up before he was allowed to talk business. Dinner was a simple affair of roast and potatoes, and Fleur made a cherry pie from scratch with the cherries that grew in their garden. Apparently being pregnant made her want to bake. After Harry was stuffed and couldn’t eat another bite they all retired to the living room with drinks. Harry and Bill enjoyed the fruits of Bill’s latest batch of mead and Fleur had poured grape juice into a wine glass so she didn’t feel left out. 

“I am so glad you came to visit, we ‘ave been very worried about you.” Fleur swirled her juice around in her glass, watching the rich red liquid instead of looking at Harry as the three of them sat by the fire. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry followed her lead, staring at the amber liquid in his own glass instead of making eye contact. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I haven’t been too much for company these past few months.”

“We noticed, mate.” Bill reached over and put a reassuring hand on Harry’s knee. “It’s alright to need some time to yourself. We missed you, is all.”

“But you are doing better now, yes? You ‘ave some color in your cheeks and you are ‘ere. Zat is what matters, is it not?” Fleur smiled.

“I’m working on it.” He sighed.

“That’s all anyone can ever ask of you.” Bill said warmly, blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. “I’m proud of you for not giving up. I know this past year hasn’t exactly been a picnic.”

“We are both proud of you. You ‘ave accomplished zings most wizards twice your age could never dream of doing. Much ‘as been asked of you, and it is time you started putting yourself first.” the passion behind her words caught Harry a little off guard. 

“I…” He struggled with the surge of emotion welling up inside of him. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

“You know we are always ‘ere for you to talk to if need be, yes?” Fleur caught his eye and held his gaze until he nodded.

“I appreciate that. Really.” He assured her, not only because he was scared of enraging a volatile Veela- he was genuinely grateful for their show of support.

“You’re part of the family, Potter.” Bill tousled his hair affectionately. “We love you.” 

“I love you too.” Harry laughed.

“Good! Now that that is settled, what did you want to ask me about?” Bill sat back and took a long sip of his mead.

“How do you feel about doing a security sweep with me?” Harry hesitated. “Off the record?”

Draco had owled him last night asking if he knew any good curse breakers, and Harry had a feeling he knew why. The remnants of Voldemort and his followers still haunted the halls of his childhood home. Harry would gladly have purged the Manor on his own, but there were just some things that you needed curse breakers for. This was one of them.

“Off the record?” Bill regarded him curiously. “Consider me intrigued.” 

“This isn’t for official business. I’m doing this for...a friend.” Harry stumbled a little over the title. 

He honestly wasn’t sure what they were. Acquaintances? Study partners? Friends? Nothing felt right. Then there was the fact that it had only been three days since he saw Draco, yet it felt like an eternity. Surely it wasn’t normal to miss someone this much after such a short period of time? When he had been called into work and had to cancel one of their study sessions he had expected Draco to reschedule one for the next day. When he didn’t, Harry had been sorely disappointed. After another whole day had passed with no word from Draco Harry began considering writing to him to see what was up. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, however, than Draco’s eagle owl showed up on his bedroom windowsill asking about a curse breaker. 

“I see. Where would this security sweep be taking place, if I agree?” Bill’s expression gave nothing away.

“Malfoy Manor.” 

Bill and Fleur shared a meaningful glance and Harry was mildly put off by their silent communication. What did that look mean?

“That’s a tough job.” Bill said slowly. “You want to do this without any form of backup?”

“You’re my back up.” Harry said hopefully. When Bill didn’t look impressed he tried again. “Draco is our backup?”

“Malfoy isn’t an Auror.” Bill frowned. “What about Ron?”

“Not Ron.” Harry shuddered at the thought. He could definitely do without the relentless teasing. “Draco is more than capable. He’s clever and powerful. If you really want someone else, I can try and get Hermione to skive off work for the day.”

“She would never.” Bill seemed amused. 

“Lucius and Narcissa will be there. I feel the five of us can handle just about anything.” Harry offered.

“Say I agree, when would you want to do this little project?”

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow?” Harry wasn’t sure he could hold out for another day after getting used to seeing Draco on a daily basis over the past three weeks. It was ridiculous how much he had come to enjoy his time with the Malfoy heir. 

Bill was silent for a long while, staring at Harry with a calculating gaze. The silence grew rather uncomfortable until Bill sat up straight, drained the last of his mead, and gave Harry a stern look.

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Harry’s heart hammered with excitement.

“On one condition.” Bill raised a finger.

“What’s the condition?” He asked warily. 

“You come for dinner once a week indefinitely. You can even bring Malfoy if you want to, just pop ‘round for a meal. We don’t always have to chat, so if you’re not feeling up to company don’t consider us company. Just let us feed you and make sure you’re alright. Do we have an accord?” Bill held out his hand.

Harry only paused to consider his terms for a brief moment. It wasn’t too much to ask, he didn’t think. Besides, who was he to turn down free food?

“Deal.” He grinned, giving Bill a firm shake. 

“Excellent. When do you want to get started?” Bill sat back with a satisfied expression.

“How early is too early?” Harry fidgeted with his almost empty glass.

“Eager, eh? Why don’t I come to yours around seven?” Bill gave him a knowing look and Harry flushed.

“That’s perfect. Thank you.” Harry stood up, finishing his mead. “I’m going to head home then and let Draco know when to expect us.”

He bent down to give Fleur a quick kiss on each cheek and a slightly awkward hug.

“Zank you for coming over, ‘Arry. I look forward to seeing much more of you.” Fleur beamed, grabbing his hand and giving it a firm squeeze before he moved out of reach. 

“Me too.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return before moving towards the hearth. “I appreciate both of you.”

“We know.” Bill smirked. “See you bright and early.”

“Bright and early.” He agreed before flooing back to Grimmauld Place. 

As soon as he stumbled out into his kitchen he went straight for the spare parchment in the corner, scribbling a note to Draco.

He rolled it up quickly and ran up the endless sets of stairs to the roof where his new owl preferred to roost. He hadn’t necessarily expected the great grey owl to be as affectionate as Hedwig, but he certainly didn’t expect it to not even want to sleep inside unless it was winter. It made him miss Hedwig all the more. The unaffectionate owl was nowhere to be seen when he finally made it to the top of the townhouse. 

“Wodin?” He called uncertainly. 

A soft woosh announced the owl’s arrival and Harry turned around. The regal-looking bird sat perched on the railing, regarding him curiously. 

“There you are. I have a job for you.” Harry crossed the roof and smiled. 

Wodin hooted at him softly and allowed Harry to pet him. He butted his head against Harry’s hand and puffed out its chest in a way Harry had come to learn meant he was happy. 

“Can you take a message to Draco Malfoy for me and wait for his reply?” He stroked Wodin’s feathers gently and the owl stared at him with wide, yellow eyes. After a moment he trilled and held out his leg for the letter so Harry took that as an affirmative. “Thank you. I’ll have a treat for you when you get back.”

Harry tied his note to Wodin’s leg and watched as the owl took off and flew into the horizon. 

***************************************************

Draco was rather pleased with how comfortable his new home had become. He had worked hard to make the place his own, and gazing around his kitchen he felt that he had succeeded. It felt warm and welcoming, almost calming. Draco was the farthest thing from calm. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his hand reassuringly. Draco did not feel reassured in the least.

“He gets really busy sometimes and he forgets that people care about him. It’s a bad habit of his. I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong.” She said for the third time that evening.

“I sent him an owl yesterday though. He should have responded by now, even if it was just to tell me to sod off.” Draco huffed, tracing the flow of the grain on his kitchen table while Hermione sipped her tea. 

“Give him time.” She sighed.

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

“Absolutely absurd,” Hermione confirmed. “But Harry is infuriatingly inconsistent, so you’re allowed.”

“I don’t know why you put up with me.” He rapped her knuckles affectionately.

“I don’t have to put up with you, it’s a genuine pleasure to be your friend.” She insisted. “I can’t believe we wasted our school years hating each other. Imagine the study guides we could have made!”

“We wouldn’t have had any other friends because we would have spent all our time studying.” He snorted. “I think everything worked out just the way it was supposed to.”

“I always envied your charms work.” She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I envied your Ancient Runes and Transfiguration.” He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Godric, you’re right. We would have spent all our time in the library.” She groaned in defeat. “Well, I’m glad we’re friends now. It would have been a tragedy to miss out on our friendship entirely.”

“Agreed.” Draco smirked.

A sharp clacking sound interrupted their banter and they both looked around the kitchen to discover the source of the noise. When Draco spied an owl tapping its talons against his window he almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Is that owl knocking?” Hermione gasped when she caught sight of the bird as well. 

“I’ve never seen that before.” He replied in an equally awestruck voice. 

“Well go on, let it in. It looks like Harry’s owl.” She shooed him away from the table.

He was out of his seat the instant Harry’s name left her lips.

“I thought he had a snowy owl.” Draco muttered distractedly as he opened the window and let the elegant great grey climb onto his arm so he could bring it inside.

“He did.” Hermione looked upset. “She was hit by a killing curse during the war.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the owl in surprise. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, owls didn’t exactly make the list of the dead.” Hermione reached out to stroke the grey owl and it hooted at her happily. 

“Fair point.” Draco conceded, untying the small roll of parchment from the bird’s leg. He unrolled it quickly and was filled with a strange sense of relief when he recognized Harry’s handwriting.

“Well? What does it say?” Hermione pressed.

“He found a curse breaker and wants to get started at seven.” Draco read over the words again, excitement fizzing through his veins. “And he wants to know if I want to meet him here or at the Manor.”

“The Manor would make the most sense.” Hermione hummed as the owl hopped away from her and settled next to Draco, looking at him expectantly. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He conceded, pulling out a fresh scrap of parchment and scribbling a quick reply. 

“This will be great for you.” Hermione said bracingly as he tied the parchment to the owl's leg.

It took off without another thought, soaring gracefully into the night.

“You know what? I think it really will.”

Hermione didn’t stay much longer after that and Draco headed to bed somewhat early. He wanted to be well-rested before facing the Manor tomorrow. 

An incessant buzzing noise was the first thing Draco became aware of. He groaned and muttered the spell to silence his tempus charm, glaring at his clock. Why did they have to get started so early? Only the thought of seeing Harry got him out of bed and into the shower. The hot water relaxed his muscles as he fought off the grogginess that always accompanied rising with the sun. He would have to forgo tea today, he was in desperate need of a much stronger source of caffeine. The familiar scent of his apple shampoo helped wake him up and he soon fell into his usual morning routine. He finished showering quickly and dressed in comfortable black trousers and a long-sleeve black shirt. He paused when he grabbed his eyeliner, looking at the tube thoughtfully. His parents hadn’t seen him wearing it yet. Would they care? He had been wearing it almost daily since Harry had said it looked good on him, but he wasn’t sure his father would approve. He set it back down on the counter, deciding not to risk it, and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. 

Six fifty found him pacing in front of the gates of the manor as he waited for Harry and his curse breaker to show. He had owled his parents before retiring for the night and hadn’t received a reply. He hoped they didn’t mind the short notice. A loud crack made him jump and he chastised himself for being so skittish. 

Harry and a tall redhead Draco didn’t recognize had appeared ten feet away. Harry was wearing faded tattered jeans with holes in the knees and a dark red tee with the words ‘Pearl Jam’ plastered across the front in big letters. His hair was even messier than usual, but he looked excited and determined as they started to close the distance between them. The redhead was similarly dressed in faded jeans and a plain black tee that stretched across his considerable muscles. His long red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and he had a dragon fang earring hanging from one ear. Three long scars cut across the middle of his left eye and reached all the way down to his lips, giving the impression of a permanent scowl. Far from being alarming, the scars made him look rugged and strong. Draco tried not to stare, but the curse breaker was hot. 

“Thank you for coming.” Draco met Harry’s eyes and flushed when he shot him a knowing smirk.

“Happy to help. This is Bill Weasley, one of the best curse breakers in the business. Bill, this is Draco.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, slouching awkwardly.

“Bill Weasley? Your mead is exquisite.” Draco offered his hand.

The curse breaker hesitated for only a moment before breaking into a wide grin and shaking Draco’s hand with all the force of a steam engine.

“Glad you like it. I’ve heard you are pretty handy with a sword.”

Ah, so he played the pureblood game. Draco supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He was a Weasley, after all. This ordeal just got a tad more interesting. 

“Lucky is more like it. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Draco smiled, fighting the urge to flex his fingers just to make sure they weren’t broken after that handshake.

“Likewise.” Bill inclined his head respectfully. 

“Good morning, gentlemen!” His mother’s voice had him turning to greet her. She was unlocking the gate, dressed impeccably in periwinkle summer robes.

“Good morning, mother.” Draco kissed her gently on the cheek and she gave him an affectionate wink. 

“Morning, Narcissa. You look stunning today.” Harry came forward, taking his mother's hand and kissing it.

“Oh, Harry. You are much too kind.” She beamed at him. “I’m afraid I feel overdressed compared to you boys.”

“Nonsense, you look perfect.” Harry assured her.

Draco tried not to let their familiarity bother him, but something about it made him mildly uncomfortable.

“When doing a security sweep it’s best to wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty, ripped, or stained.” Bill chimed in. “Pleasure to see you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Weasley. I have a quick breakfast prepared for you inside if you would like to follow me.” His mother gave them one last gracious smile before heading back down the drive, not bothering to check if they were following.

Draco motioned for the others to go first, grabbing the gate and locking it behind them before trailing after the others. Harry and his mother were bantering back and forth so Draco fell into step beside Bill. 

“Are they always like that?” Bill asked him quietly.

“I’ve no idea. I haven’t really seen them interact before.” Draco gave Bill an appraising look. 

“He doesn’t act like that with my mum.” Bill seemed amused.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Draco shrugged. 

“I don’t think I will ever come to fully understand Harry James Potter. Every time I think I have him figured out he does something to throw me off.” 

“Never a dull moment with that one.” Draco agreed. 

“Are you any good with defensive magic?” Bill asked after an awkward pause. 

“Better than most. Why?”

“Harry insisted we didn’t need back up because you’re clever enough to cover us on your own.”

“He said that?” Draco was shocked. 

“He has a lot of faith in you. I’ve never seen him take a job like this off the books before. He must really care about you.” Bill gave him a sideways glance that made Draco flush.

“I care about him too.” His voice faltered slightly and he hoped Bill didn’t notice.

“Good. Take care of him, yeah? He tends to forget to take care of himself.” Bill locked eyes with him and Draco couldn’t help but feel he was missing something.

“Er, I’ll try.” He did his best to make it not sound like a question. 

Bill’s expression grew slightly perplexed and he looked between him and Harry quickly before nodding to himself as if he figured something out. Draco had half a mind to ask him about it but decided it was better manners to pretend he didn’t notice. 

“We all try.” He gave Draco a crooked smile, acting for all the world as if nothing infuriatingly confusing just happened. 

As they approached the manor he made a face like he smelled something rather unpleasant.

“Everything alright?” Draco queried, giving the air a tentative sniff.

“Everything is fine.” Bill said lightly, putting on what Draco supposed was his relaxed version of the pureblood mask. 

He didn’t look indifferent and refined, but open and approachable despite the scars marring half of his face. Draco didn’t have time to comment on it because his mother was throwing open the doors and ushering the three of them in. There was breakfast laid out for them in the family room and they all shared lighthearted chit chat while they ate. Every so often Bill would drop his guard and wrinkle his nose as if something smelled rancid, but whenever he caught Draco looking he would flash him a warm smile and crack another joke. When his mother was satisfied that everyone had eaten their fill she had the house elves clear the remnants away, leaving the family room looking pristine.

“We greatly appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules to help us. Is there anything we can do to make this process easier for you?” She glanced between Harry and Bill hopefully. 

“If you and your husband could stay within shouting distance in case something goes awry and we need assistance it would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, I think we have it covered.” Bill gave her a charming smile. “I think we will start in here and work our way systematically through the house.”

“We can certainly do that. Just give us a shout when you finish a wing and we will follow you to the next one.” She returned his smile before taking her leave. 

She touched Draco on the shoulder briefly on her way out of the room and he nodded at her unspoken plea to be safe. As soon as she was out of the room Harry let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know where to start.” Harry looked helplessly around the room. 

“I say we start over here.” Bill motioned them over towards the window and Draco tried not to shudder at the remembered pain of being marked. “The stench or dark magic is the strongest here.”

“You can smell it too?” Draco asked before he could stop himself.

Both Bill and Harry turned to look at him with surprised expressions.

“You can smell dark magic?” Bill arched an eyebrow at him.

“Only when it’s heavily concentrated. I can barely smell it in here.” He said dismissively, then something clicked. “Hold on, that’s what you’ve been making faces at all morning, isn’t it? You could smell it from outside?”

“I could.” Bill narrowed his eyes. “Have you been bitten by a non-turned werewolf?”

“No, I’ve always been able to. Why, is that what happened to you?” Draco asked eagerly, then blushed. “I’m sorry, that was rude. It’s none of my business.”

“That’s alright, I don’t mind.” Bill seemed to relax. “I’m actually relieved to be done with all the pureblood formalities.”

“They are rather tiring.” Draco gave him a tentative smile. 

“I was attacked by Fenrir Greyback the night Dumbledore died.”

Draco felt the blood drain from his face as guilt washed over him. He had let Greyback into the castle that night. The beautiful curse breaker was attacked because of him. 

“I’m sorry.” He all but whispered. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Bill shrugged.

“It was. I let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He was only there because of me.” His voice was shaking. “It’s all my fault.”

“The logic here is pretty simple. You’re not the one who attacked me, therefore it wasn’t your fault. Lighten up, Malfoy, or I’m going to have to make you sit with your parents.” Bill poked at him.

“But-”

“Stop personalizing, Draco.” Harry said gently.

“Right.” Draco folded at the sympathy he could read in Harry’s eyes. They discovered recently that they both struggle beneath the weight of feeling responsible for everything bad that happened during the war. 

“Good. Now that we have that all sorted, shall we get started? The smell is giving me a headache.” Bill broke them out of their little moment.

“What happened here?” Harry wondered out loud.

Draco could tell that the question was meant to be rhetorical but he answered anyway.

“This was where he marked the new recruits.”

“Really?” Bill frowned. “I would have expected it to feel fouler. I heard the mark had to be burned into the skin.”

“The lingering effects of dark magic are amplified by pain. Apparently, I was the only recruit who felt the pain of the mark.” Draco’s eyes were fixated on the carpet where he had knelt in anguish as the Dark Lord mutilated his skin. 

“Shite.” Bill was also staring at the floor in front of the window, seeming to struggle with the concept of being able to smell and feel Draco’s past pain. 

“Let’s get started, yeah?” Harry seemed to steel himself. 

“What do you need me to do?” Draco asked.

“Save us if shit tries to kill us?” Harry winked.

“Just cover us if anything goes wrong.” Bill rolled his eyes.

“I can do that.” Draco smiled.

“Alright then. Wands out.” Bill smirked.

Harry reached out to take Bill’s hand and they both raised their wands, facing the window with their backs to Draco. Draco withdrew his own wand and retreated to the doorway to give them space, ready to cast at the first sign of trouble. Harry and Bill started chanting in Latin together and Draco could feel their combined power washing over the room. From what he could make out they were talking directly to the dark magic and banishing it in the fashion of the pagans. It was an ancient, powerful magic that Draco had thought was all but extinct. 

The use of their wands was a little unorthodox if Draco’s assumptions were correct and they were using old magic. The use of a conduit to harness and control magic was unheard of back then, but Draco wasn’t going to question their methods. They were the experts, after all. Both men did this sort of thing for a living. 

He watched quietly as they moved in unison around the room, chanting and making complicated wand movements. The scent of dark magic became strangely burnt before dissipating entirely when they finished their chanting. 

“This room is clear. I didn’t sense any cursed or dark objects in here.” Harry said with a commanding air that gave Draco goosebumps. 

“Agreed.” Bill nodded curtly. “Let's move on.”

They moved from room to room, repeating the process over and over again. Harry and Bill would chant and circle the room and Draco would hover in the doorway, ready to jump in if need be. They stumbled upon a few dark artifacts and Bill had to perform a powerful bit of curse breaking in the room the Dark Lord had used as his bedroom, but the two men took everything in stride and didn’t need Draco to step in once. Draco had been somewhat anxious when they went into his old bedroom, unsure of what they might find. Other than his bed and desk, however, the room was empty and devoid of any traces of dark magic. Harry seemed oddly pleased by that fact and Draco tried not to read too much into it. 

His father joined them when they reached his study, insisting that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something in there caused any of them harm. Draco was fairly certain he just wanted to supervise the handling of his personal possessions. It turned out to be a good thing he was there on both accounts; he managed to save Bill from a particularly nasty intruder curse and stop Harry from breaking a priceless figurine that had been passed down the Malfoy line for generations. By the time the study was deemed clear all four of them were worn out and in need of a drink.

“Only two rooms left!” Harry cheered optimistically as they settled onto his father’s couch together.

“I wouldn’t get too cocky, the Library and drawing room are the worst rooms by far. The rest of the manor was a picnic compared to them- including the Dark Lord’s bedroom.” Draco shuddered. 

“He isn’t exaggerating.” His father said gravely, handing out glasses of brandy before sitting next to Bill in the armchairs by the fireplace. “Even the house-elves refuse to go in them.”

“We will just have to be extra careful, then.” Bill sipped his brandy thoughtfully. 

“I honestly can’t thank you boys enough for doing this. I put in a request with the Ministry ages ago, but they keep telling me my application is pending approval.” His father scoffed.

“Pending approval?” Harry questioned.

“It’s bureaucratic code for ‘we filed your request in the trash’.” Draco exchanged an exasperated look with his father. “No one wants to help us because we’re marked.”

“That’s a load of shite.” Harry growled. “Do you remember who you talked to?”

“I appreciate your sympathy, Mr. Potter, but there is no use in pursuing the issue. It isn’t the bigotry of just one official. It’s the attitude of the vast majority of Wizarding Britain as a whole. Confronting one person isn’t going to help very much in the grand scheme of things, it’s just an unnecessary headache.” His father sounded resigned.

“I’m sorry.” Harry huffed, fidgeting with his glass. “It’s unfair and I wish there was something I could do to fix it.”

“You’re already fixing it just by being here and helping us.” His father almost smiled.

They fell into light-hearted conversation after that, trading jokes as they sipped their brandy. It was quite soothing, but Draco couldn’t relax. Harry had sat rather close and any time he moved he would accidentally brush against him. The constant barely-there touching and the anxiety of facing the library and drawing room had Draco pretty tightly wound. The knowing looks and snarky comments from his father certainly didn’t help matters. When it was finally time to purge the last two rooms he was almost relieved. 

“Do you want me to stay and help?” His father asked as they approached the library.

“Salazar, no.” Draco said a little too quickly. 

He had reached his limit on embarrassing innuendos and jokes made at his expense. Miraculously, all of his father’s teasing seemed to go over Harry’s head. It certainly didn’t go over Bill’s, however, and Draco was painfully aware of the knowing smirk plastered all over his face. 

“We’ve got it covered, Mr. Malfoy.” Bill shot Draco a friendly wink. “If we need anything we will send for you.”

“Well, if you insist.” His father looked hopefully towards Harry.

They also appeared to have struck up an unusual sort of friendship, though nothing on the level of Harry’s strange friendship with his mother.

“We’ll be fine, Lucius. Don’t worry about us.” Harry waved him off.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll leave you boys to it.” He gave in with good grace, retreating back towards his study.

As soon as they heard the study door shut behind him all three men visibly relaxed. 

“Your dad seems… nicer.” Bill offered diplomatically. 

“It’s like he’s a completely different person now that he’s free of the Dark Lord.” Draco agreed.

“He’s still a little...much sometimes, though.” Harry said fondly. “Best in small doses.”

“You have no idea.” Draco laughed.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Bill drew their attention back to the task at hand. “I’m sure my wife would appreciate it if I was home before dinner.”

“Right.” Draco took a deep breath. “Prepare yourselves.” He warned before pulling both of the library doors open wide.

Despite being braced for the stench of dark magic that rushed out to greet them, Draco still froze as the memories of pain began playing like a film in his head. He watched himself and his family being tortured mercilessly by the Dark Lord as well as reliving the times he had been forced to torture others. Their screams rang in his ears and he could taste their fear on his tongue. 

He was vaguely aware of Bill cursing up a storm as he was hit by the onslaught, but he couldn’t look away from the dark rows of shelves.

“Draco, hey.” Harry’s velvety voice seemed to pull him back. “Look at me.”

He slowly tore his eyes away from the room and looked at Harry. His jade eyes were full of compassion and Draco allowed himself to get lost in them.

“That’s right, look right at me. You’re alright, it’s all in the past. Nobody blames you for what he made you do.” Harry reached out and grabbed his shoulders as he spoke, grounding him and giving him a physical sensation to focus on. 

Draco took in a few deep breaths while Harry continued to give muttered reassurances in a soothing tone. He was immensely grateful he had already told Harry exactly why the library was the worst room for him. Having Harry here supporting him made him feel like he could face down his demons. 

“I can do this.” He breathed.

“You can do this.” Harry echoed encouragingly. 

Draco became hyper-aware that Harry’s hands were still on his shoulders and that his face was mere inches from his own. He could feel the warmth of Harry’s breath on his skin and it gave him chills. Now his pulse was racing for an entirely different reason. It would be so easy to just lean forward and press his lips against Harry’s. Harry’s eyes darted down to his lips and for a moment Draco thought Harry might kiss him.

Bill cleared his throat awkwardly “Are we good?” 

“Yeah.” Draco tried to hide his bitter disappointment as Harry let him go and took three steps back. “Yeah, we’re good. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re alright.” Bill gave him a warm smile and a pat on the back. “Same thing happened to me in a tomb in Egypt. I had to sit that one out. Panic attacks suck.”

“They do.” Draco smiled weakly back at him. “I, er, would really appreciate it if you didn’t…”

“Tell people you’re human? Wouldn’t dream of it.” Bill crossed his heart with his pointer finger and Draco laughed.

“Thanks.”

“Alright, let's get this over with.” Harry sighed, eyeing the gloomy library wearily. “Draco, I want you to stick close this time. A lot of nasty things could have taken root in those shelves and I have a feeling we will need you nearby.”

“Calling the shots, Auror Potter? I like it.” Bill teased. “You heard the man, let's move out.”

It took twice as long to clear the library as it had to clear the study, and this time Draco had plenty to do. The dark magic had started to take over the room and when they tried to banish it, it fought back. Harry made a joke about going through a similar battle with his own home and Bill seemed to agree; something about purging headquarters for the Order back in the day. As soon as the library was cleared they immediately moved onto the drawing-room. It reeked of death and decay but put up minimal resistance compared to the library, for which they were all very grateful. When the last curse had been broken and the last vestiges of dark magic vanished they all but collapsed on the chaise lounge together. Draco’s mother rushed in with refreshments and revitalizing potions, asking Harry and Bill to stay for dinner as they recovered. They both politely declined the invitation and left together.

Draco cursed as he watched them apparate away. He had forgotten to set up their next study date.


	24. In which George talks about feelings and Harry makes a decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George avoids looking in the mirror because he doesn't want to see Fred. Harry makes a decision and is outraged that no one told him he was in love with Draco before he figured it out for himself. Draco does something very un-Malfoyish and a house-elf randomly appears in Draco's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! Here it is at last!!!!! THE KISS THE KISS THE KISS THE KISS!!!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhh! This scene was so much fun to write! I hope you love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And so begins the most adorable string of dates you have ever seen followed by some very hot smut, if I do say so myself. Eek! I am so HYPE for Drarry! 💚💚💖💖  
> As always, a huge shout out to my beta readers; AlexClio and SandZhark! This fic would not be possible without them!  
> If you've stuck with me this long; does the kiss live up to your expectations???? Please let me know! If you're just joining- the same question! If you like what you're reading, leave some kudos and a comment! If not, comment and let me know how I can do better!  
> Happy reading!!!

“Why didn’t you ask Hermione or Ginny to help you?” George heaved a long-suffering sigh but gave Harry a playful wink so he obviously wasn’t too put out.

“Maybe I wanted to spend some time with you. Is that a crime?” Harry challenged.

“It is in some countries.” George smirked, pushing himself up on Harry’s bathroom counter.

“That really isn’t your best side, dear.” The mirror said dryly. 

“Oi, every side is my best side!” George cried in mock outrage.

The mirror didn’t deign to reply to that and Harry snickered.

“If you say so.”

“Careful, I could change my mind about helping you.” George sniffed. 

“I’m so sorry, every inch of you is utter perfection.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Damn straight.” George nodded, then his expression softened. “I have missed you, though.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry we haven’t really had time together lately.” Harry picked up a brand new tube of eyeliner and fidgeted with the cap as an excuse not to look at George.

“It’s alright.” George waved him off. “Communication is a two-way street, I could have come to you. We’re both at fault here.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Let’s make it a point to not go almost an entire month without hanging out again, yeah? Seeing you in passing just isn’t the same...”

“Yeah.” George smiled. “We need to at least grab a coffee or something so we don’t fall out of touch.”

“At the very least.” Harry agreed.

“So! Eyeliner. Where do you want to start?” George rubbed his hands together excitedly, looking over at the array of colorful sticks he was sitting next to on the counter. “We have a lot of options.”

“I didn’t know it came in so many colors.” Harry shrugged. “I may have gone a tad overboard, but I wasn’t sure which one to get.”

“No no, this is perfect. Now you can color coordinate with your outfits.” George laughed, grabbing the green stick to examine it. “You’re wearing green today, so I say we start with this one.”

“Works for me. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.” Harry looked helplessly at the eyeliner in George's hand.

"You came to the right Weasley then. We helped Ginny figure all this stuff out ages ago. If we could simultaneously learn and teach a belligerent thirteen-year-old, I'm sure I can teach you." George almost succeeded in mentioning Fred without looking like he was being burned alive with grief. Almost. 

“Guess I’m in good hands then.” Harry pretended not to notice.

“Only the best for our Savior.” George teased past the melancholy. “Now stand here,” he indicated the spot between his legs “open your eyes wide and look at the ceiling without tilting your head.”

Harry did his best to obey. After a small bit of fighting and a fair amount of name-calling, George finally had Harry’s face in the right position. He kept up a running commentary on proper application technique and how to get the most out of each tube while he worked on his left eye. He applied it thicker on the outer corner and very lightly on the inside, wiping off any excess with his thumb until he was satisfied. 

“You seem...better.” George studied his face critically before moving onto his right eye.

“Do I?” Harry was slightly taken aback by the abrupt subject change. “How so?”

“I don’t know, you have a bit of your old spark back.” George frowned thoughtfully. “You almost look happy”

“Really?” Harry mused. “I suppose I have been a bit happier.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Malfoy lately.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation, it was simply a matter of fact. George didn’t seem upset over it though, which brought Harry an odd sense of relief. 

“Yeah, I guess I have. We actually get along surprisingly well.” Harry said bemusedly. “You know, when we’re not trying to hex each other.”

There was a quiet pause while George finished Harry’s right eye and capped the eyeliner. He cupped Harry’s chin in one hand, tilting his head this way and that before he nodded in satisfaction. George motioned for him to back up and once he was far enough away from the counter he jumped down and looked him dead in the eyes with a twisted expression.

“You know I want you to be happy, right?” He asked, placing his hand on Harry’s cheek and running his thumb across the bone.

“Of course I do.” Harry frowned, wondering where George was taking this. “I want you to be happy, too.”

“If Malfoy is who makes you happy, you should be with him. Don’t let me or anyone else stand in your way.” George’s hand was trembling slightly against his skin.

“George, I-” Harry started to protest, but George shook his head.

“You can’t be sad forever.” He insisted. “It’s been over a year, it’s alright to move on.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me.” Harry muttered in embarrassment. This was the first time he had ever come close to admitting his feelings for Draco out loud. 

“Harry, please.” George snorted. “You two are perfect for each other.” 

“I don’t-”

“Shut up and appreciate my handiwork.” George rolled his eyes, pulling him forward so he could look in the mirror without turning around himself. “I did a great job if I do say so myself.”

The darker lines around the outer corners made his eyes look bigger, accentuating the unique jade hues of his irises and making his entire face look more defined. He didn’t look nearly as good as Draco did in eyeliner, but he definitely liked it. Maybe he could make it a once in a while, on a special occasion type thing.

“It looks fantastic, thank you.” Harry gave George an appreciative smile.

“I did what I could with the shoddy subject matter I was given to work with.” George sighed dramatically, only cracking a grin when Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

They easily fell back into their rhythm of chatting peppered with endless teasing and Harry almost felt normal. It was great catching up, but when George finally left Harry discovered he had an entirely new kind of problem on his hands.

Now that he was painfully aware that he had feelings for Draco, what was he going to do about it?

*********

Harry took a deep breath, shifting the large box in his arms till he was able to knock on the non-descript grey door. 

Here went nothing. 

He knocked four times in quick succession before stepping back. He stabilized the teetering pile of sketchbooks that were threatening to topple out of the box just as the door swung open to reveal a very confused Draco Malfoy.

Harry hadn’t realized he was aching to see him until an immense sense of relief washed over him as soon as he laid eyes on Draco.

“Harry?” He asked somewhat incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

Harry was silent for just a beat too long. 

What was he doing here? 

He had thought long and hard about what George had said over the past two days, and he had finally reached a decision. When Harry had told Ron and Hermione about his inconvenient feelings for the Malfoy heir they hadn’t seemed surprised in the least. After getting over his shock that his feelings for Draco weren’t shocking to anyone else, he had lamented on not knowing what to do about it. That was when Hermione casually mentioned the fact that the Ministry was still holding all of the Malfoy possessions as evidence. From what he had seen at the Manor the other day they had obviously replaced most of it, but it was the principal of the matter. He had sent Lucius and Narcissa's things via owl, but Ron had convinced him to deliver Draco’s things in person. 

So here he was, at Draco’s home, knocking on his door at eight o’clock at night after fighting with the higher-ups at the Ministry all bloody day. He probably looked like a wreck.

How had he let Ron and Hermione talk him into this? 

That was a lie. 

His friends may have encouraged him, but he had found himself reaching for any reason to contact Draco since he realized he was in love with him. Those silver eyes had been haunting him for weeks now. 

The very same eyes that were growing less and less patient with each passing second.

“I heard the Ministry was still holding your belongings.” He lifted the box as unnecessary evidence. “Thought that was a load of shite so I convinced them to release them.”

“How kind of you.” Draco seemed hesitant but invited him in regardless. “Living room is just through here.”

Harry entered the house curiously. He had never gotten the chance to go inside during the housewarming party. Draco’s home was surprisingly bright. Harry noted the distinct lack of electricity and the subtle hum of magic in the air. Hermione had said Draco didn’t like electricity. 

The walls, which were painted a pale seafoam blue, were peppered with glowing round lanterns that moved sluggishly, linking like clusters of bubbles when they encountered another lantern. The pale birch flooring was smooth and calming, and oddly enough Harry could hear the sound of the ocean emanating from the door on their left.

Draco led him into his living room and Harry almost stopped. His eyes were immediately pulled upwards to the vast expanse of sky that was visible. The vaulted ceiling had been completely replaced with glass panels. Harry could imagine how they would allow natural light to bathe the room in a rich warm glow during the day, but right now they served as a window into the heavens. 

“I had to have them added.” Draco’s voice brought him back down to earth. “There was originally wood paneling and rustic rafters, but I wanted to see the sky.” He was also gazing up at the stars and Harry found that he quite appreciated the look of wonder on his face.

“They’re beautiful.” He said somewhat lamely.

The rest of the room should have paled in comparison to the beauty of the night sky, but it was equally breathtaking. Greens and golds and blues dominated the color scheme, giving the room an ethereal feel. All of the furniture was sleek, modern, and matte black. The dull color seemed to accentuate the vibrancy of the rest of the room. The emerald greens and rich blues seemed impossibly vivid and the gold seemed to highlight everything in a bold yet elegant way. There was a telescope and an easel set up in the bay window overlooking the garden and the room was enclosed on all sides by bookshelves. 

Some of the shelves held books on various topics. From ‘Quidditch Through the Ages’ to Advanced Potions texts, Draco had it all. Harry was amused to recognize a few works of muggle fiction hiding amongst the wizarding books. Other shelves held paints and paintbrushes, empty canvases, and the largest collection of pencils Harry had ever seen in his life. The remaining shelf space simply held knick-knacks and keepsakes. He was gratified to see the origami elephant he had jokingly given him during one of their study sessions had a place of honor next to a crystal figurine.

“You have a nice place.” Harry hummed conversationally. In the months since his pardon had gone through, it seemed as though Draco had really built himself a home here in Rye. 

“It’s a work in progress, but I like it. It’s a damn sight better than the Manor.” Draco shuddered.

Harry’s heart ached for him. The Dursleys' house had always meant little to him. He didn’t have many fond memories there. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have your once happy home turned into a constant reminder of pain and torment. Even with the tangible traces of dark magic removed, the painful memories still lingered.

“It’s very you- shite!” Harry swore as the sketchbooks that had been on top of everything else went cascading to the floor. A few loose pictures fluttered out and Harry stooped to grab them after setting the box on Draco’s coffee table.

“No!” Draco cried in alarm, his hands outstretched as if to prevent him from picking up the drawings. “Don’t, I can manage.”

“It’s not a problem.” Harry shot him a quizzical glance as he grabbed the loose papers and fallen books, gathering them into a rather messy pile. 

One of the drawings caught his attention. It was blackened around the edges and somewhat smaller than all the others, suggesting fire damage. When he flipped it over his heart stuttered in his chest. 

It was Ron and Hermione and himself sitting side by side at the Gryffindor table in the great hall. Hermione’s nose was scrunched up in amusement and Ron’s mouth was wide open, obviously in mid-laugh. Harry could almost hear the bark-like guffaw through the picture. Then there he was, lips curved in a smirk as he tried not to laugh. He remembered this day. It was one of the last carefree days they had had before the war started in earnest. 

“You drew this?” Harry asked breathlessly, gently tracing the delicate pencil strokes.

“I did.” Draco said in a clipped tone, making to take the stack of drawings out of his hands. 

“Wait, hold on-” He stepped back, just out of Draco’s reach. “I didn’t know you were an artist. You’re really talented.” 

Harry shuffled through the other loose bits of parchment and sketching paper, drinking in picture after astonishingly detailed picture. They were mostly of him, more often without his friends than with, and a couple of Pansy and the other Slytherins. 

“Don’t patronize me, Potter. It’s just a hobby, now give them here.” Draco snipped defensively. He was ten different shades of red as he made to grab them away from him again.

“I’m not patronizing you, these are actually quite good.” Harry flipped through the top sketchbook, chuckling when he saw a cartoon of Umbridge hopping around as a toad, but for the most part, all of the drawings were of him. It caused his heart to inflate in a way he couldn’t explain. “I don’t know why you’re embarrassed about them, I think they’re brilliant.”

“Really?” Draco sounded both sarcastic and insecure as he finally managed to grab the rest of them out of his hands.

“Of course.” He smiled. “Er, just one question though. Why are most of them of me?”

“You must be bloody joking.” Draco arched an incredulous eyebrow. “How oblivious are you?”

“Apparently very?” Harry didn’t mean it as a question, but it came out as one.

“Merlin, you’re going to make me say it.” Draco looked mortified as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a heavy sigh before looking him straight in the eyes. “I fancy you, you sodding insufferable, idiotic, brain dead prat. I mean, honestly, is your skull filled with rocks, or just cobwebs?” 

“Probably Wrackspurts.” Harry shrugged, thinking of Luna.

“I don’t even know what that is.” Draco snapped.

“Are you done insulting my intelligence?” Harry asked lightly, fighting to keep a straight face.

“Not nearly, but if I were to adequately describe just how incredibly dense you are we would be here all bloody night.” Draco huffed, looking away.

“So you’re done? For now?” Harry wanted to clarify.

“For now, yes.” Draco snorted derisively.

“Thank Merlin for that.” Harry breathed before closing the distance between them in three quick strides, cupping Draco’s face with both hands and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. 

Draco was frozen in shock for only a few seconds before melting completely into Harry. Harry let out a soft moan of approval as Draco pulled him closer. He released Draco’s face in favor of wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling himself up to Draco’s height so he could deepen the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, tossing the forgotten drawings onto the sofa behind them as he tentatively licked at Harry’s lips. Harry granted entrance instantly, meeting his tongue in a playful struggle for dominance. Eventually, Draco won and Harry simply let himself get lost in the bliss that was kissing Draco Malfoy. Harry loved the feeling of having Draco in his arms and the way their bodies seemed to fit together like a puzzle. He loved the overwhelming scent of jasmine, cloves, and petrichor that filled his nostrils as he pressed himself impossibly closer. He loved the faint taste of tea that lingered on Draco’s tongue. He loved the feel of Draco’s incredibly soft hair slipping through his fingers and the overwhelming blaze of desire that was raging in his veins.

For the first time in years, Harry felt whole. Not miraculously healed, like all of his pain and trauma never happened, but like it was bearable- something he could overcome. It felt as if he had finally found the part of him that was missing. 

Draco trembled slightly as he felt Harry’s hands moving hungrily across his body. Was this really happening? He leaned forward until Harry’s feet were firmly back on the ground before taking complete control of the kiss. 

Draco gave in to years worth of temptation and curiosity and finally carded his fingers through Harry’s messy black locks, tugging roughly at it every so often. Merlin, it was exactly as soft as he always dreamed it would be. Harry growled appreciatively at the sensation and Draco smirked against the kiss. 

So Harry liked having his hair played with? He could definitely work with that. 

Almost a decade's worth of sexual tension was being poured into a single kiss and before too long it became slightly overwhelming. 

Apparently, Harry was thinking along those same lines because at that exact moment he pulled back and pressed their foreheads together.

“I think it’s safe to say I fancy you too.” Harry laughed breathlessly.

“Well, maybe you’re not a complete idiot, then.” Draco gasped, his head still swimming from what was quite possibly the best snog of his life. 

“I think I just needed to hear you say it.” Harry placed several chaste kisses on his lips, nose, and cheeks. 

“Say what?” Draco hummed distractedly.

“That you like me.” Harry's emerald eyes were still alight with wild desire.

“I suppose I’ll have to start saying it more often, then, if this is the response I get.” Draco’s heart felt like it had turned into a hippogriff that just took flight and he couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter that escaped. 

“I definitely wouldn’t mind that.” Harry flashed him a seductive grin and Draco could scarcely believe that this was actually happening.

“Am I dreaming?” He couldn’t help but wonder out loud.

“I hope not, or you’re going to be rightly pissed when you wake up and find out I’ve been snogging you in your sleep.” Harry snorted, taking a step back to give him some breathing space.

Draco lost every ounce of composure he had left and burst out laughing. In seconds he was clutching his sides, hysterical over the absurdity of it all. When he could breathe without breaking into hiccuping giggles he sighed contentedly.

“Thanks for that. I don’t think I’ve had a proper laugh in years.” 

“Are you convinced you’re awake now?” Harry cocked a mischievous smirk and Draco had to look away to keep from laughing again.

“Only you could ever think of something so off the wall to say. My subconscious is definitely not that clever.” He conceded.

A somewhat awkward silence stretched between them. Neither one seemed to know what to do next. 

This was uncharted territory.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Harry asked in a rush.

“What, now?” Draco blinked rapidly in surprise and then felt his face burn with a blush.

“I was actually thinking tomorrow? Night or day. Whatever works for you.” Harry scratched at the back of his neck, staring at the box that was still filled with his old belongings. 

“I would quite like that, yes.” He nodded curtly, suddenly self-conscious. “I happen to have tomorrow off, so we can do either.” 

“How about both, then? We can spend the day together.” Harry sounded hopeful and he took a moment to marvel at that fact.

“That is perfectly fine with me.” Draco gathered the discarded sketchbooks and loose papers and sorted them into the correct order.

“Hold on, can I keep that one?” Harry stepped closer, placing his hand over Draco’s oh so gently. 

It felt like electricity was humming beneath their skin, dying to connect.

“Which one?’ Draco gasped. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

“This one.” Harry pulled the burnt picture out of the stack and studied it with an odd look of wonder on his face.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I should have tossed it ages ago.” Draco shrugged, sliding the rest of them onto his art shelf. Oddly enough they were a perfect fit.

“Why didn’t you?” Harry asked curiously, his jade eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Sentimental value.” Draco looked down at the ruined drawing sadly. “It was the last drawing I did before...before I tried to kill Dumbledore. I kind of stopped after that.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked “Thank you.” 

Harry once again closed the distance between them, but this time he simply wrapped him in his arms and held him.

“What for?” Draco was bewildered. He certainly hadn’t expected to be hugged after bringing up one of his darkest moments. 

“For letting me keep it, and for sharing that with me. I know talking about the war hurts you. You normally go all stiff and change the subject.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond to that. 

He was touched by Harry’s concern and a lump formed in his throat. Merlin, he was not going to cry like a petulant child all over Harry’s shirt just when they were finally connecting. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist instead and settled his head on his shoulder. Harry seemed to understand his silent gratitude because he only held him tighter. 

“I feel...comfortable around you, I suppose.” He finally said once he felt like he was back in control. 

“I’m glad.” Harry whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his head before letting him go.

“I’m glad you came over.” Draco felt inexplicably shy all of the sudden and picked up the first thing his hands landed on out of the box.

“I am too.” Harry sounded equally unsure. “I suppose I should leave you to sort through your...things…” He trailed off awkwardly, staring forlornly at the box.

“Do you want to stay and help me go through everything?” Draco tried not to sound desperate. “I can put the kettle on.”

“I think I would like that, yeah.” Harry’s lopsided grin was back and Draco couldn’t help but return it.

“Brilliant. Make yourself at home and I’ll go make us some tea.” Draco retreated quickly, still shell shocked that Harry was here.

When he went to grab the kettle he realized he was still holding the item he had grabbed. It was the protective case his mother had gotten him for his prefect badge. He opened it and smiled down at the gleaming green pin nestled against the soft grey velvet and set it on the counter. It wasn’t important and he certainly didn’t need it, but it was nice to have it back for the sentimental value. It was incredibly thoughtful of Harry to get his things released and bring them by.

Draco took his time filling the kettle. He needed a moment to wrap his head around everything that just happened. 

Harry had kissed him.

He had actually, properly kissed him. It wasn’t your run of the mill, quick peck that you could give your mother or best friend kind of kiss either. It was a hot, messy, passionate ordeal. He lifted his fingers to his lips and smiled. He could almost feel the ghost of Harry’s lips.

Harry had told Draco he liked him. He was truly interested, it wasn’t just an ‘in the moment’ thing. He really liked him. Draco’s heart felt like it might explode with emotion. 

Oh Merlin.

They were going on a date tomorrow.

A proper date. 

Since Harry had done the asking, would he be doing all of the planning? Draco had never had to plan a date before. Surely he must have an idea locked away somewhere. The more he thought about it he began to realize he didn’t know how to plan a date because he had never been on one. Not even with Theo. 

The shrill whistle of the kettle broke him out of his thoughts and he rushed to pour the tea. He finally had the chance to use the beautiful black and silver tea tray his mother had given him after the first time she had come over for tea. It matched the set Harry had gotten him perfectly. Draco moved quickly, suddenly eager to get back and make sure this all hadn't been an insanely realistic daydream. 

Harry Potter was waiting for him in his living room. 

He arranged a row of biscuits and poured the tea without thinking, adding milk and far too much sugar to Harry’s cup. When he was satisfied that everything looked perfect he picked up the tray and took a deep, calming breath.

“You started painting after the war?” Harry asked him as soon as he walked back into the living room. He was standing with his back to Draco, studying his most recent painting. It was still drying on the easel. 

“I did. I didn’t really have any desire to go back to drawing.” He set the tray down next to the overflowing box. “I drew a bit in the Ministry holding cell, but that was the only thing I could do. Somehow I don’t feel like that counts.”

Harry turned and came to join him on the couch, sitting closer than was strictly necessary. It made Draco’s heart stutter when his leg brushed against his thigh oh so casually. 

“You have some serious talent. Have you ever tried to sell your paintings?” Harry asked as he grabbed a ginger biscuit and dunked it in his tea like a neanderthal. It was oddly endearing. 

“I sometimes put them up in the gallery I work at. The owner is very nice. He lets me fill any empty slots until they get new merchandise.”

“Have you ever sold any?”

“A few. They don’t sell nearly as well as the other pieces though.” Draco brushed the notion off. 

Harry’s eyes lit up as he sipped his tea and he gave Draco a wide-eyed look.

“How did you know how I like my tea?” He narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

“Oh. Er, I might have noticed you always added too much sugar to yours during breakfast in the great hall.” He flushed.

“Mmm.” Harry hummed as he took another sip. “You take yours with one sugar and just a splash of milk.” He said knowingly. 

“And how do you know that?” Draco grinned, glad he wasn’t the only one to notice the small details. 

“Same way I know your favorite Hogwarts meal was the pot roast, but you never took the dinner rolls and that your favorite dessert is pie.” He shrugged unashamedly. 

“Ah, but what kind of pie?” Draco challenged.

“Trick question. It varies depending on the season.” Harry quipped.

“Impressive.” 

“I had to keep tabs on my...arch-nemesis after all.”

“That’s the reason.” Draco snorted. 

“Oi, don’t pretend like you never watched to see what I was up to.” Harry laughed.

“Please. I had much better things to do with my time than take note that you favored the steak and kidney pie or gorged yourself on treacle tart, or stopped eating when you were nervous about something.” Draco sniffed.

“Aha! I knew it!” Harry crowed.

They fell into easy conversation as they slowly unpacked the box. Harry had a million questions and for once Draco found that he didn’t mind answering them. When Harry removed his old dress robes something red flashed in his peripheral vision and his jaw dropped, leaving the sentence he had been in the middle of hanging in the air.

“Is that the sword of Gryffindor?” He screeched in a very un-Malfoyish manor.

“Yeah, they said they had found it with your things but returned it to McGonagall since it technically belongs to Hogwarts.”

“I figured they might feel that way. So how is it here?” He grasped the hilt reverently. 

It hummed pleasantly in welcome, greeting him like an old friend. 

“Dumbledore left it to me in his will, so I pulled some strings. I saw the way you looked at it after you killed Nagini. I also saw you transfigure a scabbard for it so you could keep it. I figured if anyone deserves it, it’s you. They have the fake that was in your Aunt's vault on display at Hogwarts. We’re the only ones who know this is the real sword.” Harry made it sound like it wasn’t the single most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him. 

Draco just gazed at him helplessly for a moment before flinging himself into his lap and kissing him. Harry responded enthusiastically, smiling into the kiss.

“Thank you.” Draco breathed when he finally pulled away. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“I’m glad it makes you happy.” Harry grinned. 

Draco wasn’t sure what time they fell asleep. Once the box was completely unpacked and everything put in its proper place they had turned out all the lights and watched the stars. The last thing he was aware of was Harry curling into his side and resting his head on his chest, mumbling something about eternal beauty.  
***  
Pansy sighed impatiently as she knocked for the third time. Draco didn’t normally sleep in and she was eager to see what had become of their nefarious planning. Did Harry stop by or not? She gave him a generous additional five seconds before digging her spare key out and letting herself in. 

The house was unusually quiet. Was he honestly still sleeping? She trudged towards the stairs but came to a dead stop when she reached the archway that led into his living room. He was sleeping on the couch, which in and of itself was odd. There was also a large, empty cardboard box and a half-eaten tea tray on his coffee table which was especially strange. Draco hated clutter.

The most shocking thing, however, was what-or rather who, Draco was sleeping on. 

“Well, I'll be damned.” She chuckled. “That didn’t take long.”

Harry Potter was sprawled out on Draco’s couch, glasses placed haphazardly on the floor and a softly snoring Draco tucked against his chest. Their legs were tangled together and Draco’s head was snuggled into the crook of Harry's neck with Harry’s arms holding him securely in place.

They were sickeningly adorable. 

She carefully reached into her bag and pulled her travel camera out. If they worked out this would be a perfect picture to start a scrapbook of their relationship. After she got a couple of shots from different angles (ever the photographer) she snuck into the kitchen to start some coffee and put the kettle on. No one could ever claim she wasn’t thoughtful. 

As the coffee and tea were brewing she quickly cleared up their litter from last night and collapsed the empty box, setting it by the rubbish bin to take out later. It was just bizarre for Draco to leave any type of mess. It made her weirdly uncomfortable. After she reset the tea tray with all of the makings for morning tea and coffee she carried it quietly into the living room and placed it in the center of the coffee table. 

She debated on waking them up and spending the morning nettling details of their night from them while they were too tired to be evasive but thought better of it. She retrieved a quill and a piece of parchment from Draco’s desk and wrote a quick note. When she was satisfied with it she placed it next to the kettle, cast a warming charm on the drinks, and let herself out.

Hermione was going to freak out. She couldn’t wait to tell her.  
***

Draco's nose tickled as he slowly woke up. 

Coffee. 

He could smell coffee. He was reluctant to open his heavy eyelids. He had been having such a nice dream. When his pillow vibrated and muttered something about Quidditch he froze. 

Not a dream then. 

When he opened his eyes he found that he was wrapped snugly in Harry's arms and his head was resting on his chest. It was an odd sensation. After gazing for much too long at Harry's sleeping face he yawned and looked around the room. He was going to have to clean up before he would be able to concentrate on anything else. 

He blinked and stared at his coffee table in groggy confusion. The box and tea tray from last night were gone. In their place was a coffee carafe, teapot, and two mugs with a piece of parchment placed between them. He frantically cast his mind back, trying to remember if he had locked his door last night. Not that burglars would make him coffee after robbing him, but it was worrying all the same. A vague memory of locking up before stargazing with Harry surfaced and he breathed a sigh of relief. It must have been his mother or Pansy. They were the only two people with spare keys.

Now he had another problem. How was he supposed to extricate himself from the very much still sleeping man beneath him? Just as the thought crossed his mind Harry shifted, pinning him against the back of the couch. 

Well, there went that idea. 

The new position had brought their faces closer together and Draco took the opportunity to study Harry with no reservations. He looked impossibly peaceful. Draco managed to free one of his hands and he traced the rough lines of Harry's face. There was stubble decorating his jaw and his lips were drawn into a pout. Draco planted a soft kiss on them. He couldn't help himself. Harry sighed happily in response and snuggled closer, almost suffocating him.

"Harry, I can't breathe." He groaned. "Potter!" He shoved futilely at his muscular frame. 

"Wha? Whazz 'appening?" Harry jerked awake when Draco prodded him in his ribs.

"Can't. Breathe." Draco gasped.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry!" Harry moved away and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. 

Draco took in a couple of deep breaths before disentangling himself from Harry and sitting up properly. 

"You alrigh'?" Harry yawned sleepily. 

"I'll survive." He said grimly. "It was quite enjoyable till you crushed the air from my lungs."

“I’m s-s-sorry.” Harry gave another massive yawn and stretched while Draco snatched the parchment off the coffee table and read the note. 

“Salazar, that conniving little…” Draco sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Harry muttered distractedly, already grabbing a mug and pouring himself some tea.

“See for yourself.” Draco handed him Pansy’s note. 

Harry squinted at it and then looked around. It took a moment for Draco to realize he was looking for his glasses.

“Have you-?”

“Not since last night.” Draco shook his head. “Here, I’ll read it while you look.”

He took the parchment back and cleared his throat.

“‘Good morning love birds.’”

“Merlin, love birds?” Harry’s head popped up from where he was pulling up the couch cushions in his quest.

“It gets worse.” Draco drawled. “‘I stopped by to see how you were doing. Imagine my surprise when I found none other than Harry Potter holding you while you snored.’ Oi, I do not snore!” 

“Yeah, you do. Just a little, though. It’s cute.” Harry shot him a cheeky grin before ducking down to check underneath the couch.

“That makes me feel loads better.” Draco rolled his eyes before continuing. “‘You two looked so unbearably cute together I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I did, however, tidy up and make you both some coffee and tea. I’ll be back at some point, so try to keep your clothes on. If you need me before then I’ll be with Hermione. Love Pansy.’”

“Well that didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.” Harry muttered distractedly.

“Try to keep your clothes on? I’m going to murder her.” Draco growled as he poured himself a mug of coffee, inhaling the aroma before taking a sip.

“Aha!” Harry cried in triumph. He held his glasses up victoriously before putting them on and fixing the couch cushions. “I think it’s sweet that she cares.”

“It’s her way of warning me.” Draco snorted as they both settled back onto the couch with their mugs. 

“Warning you?” Harry sounded amused.

“When she returns we’re going to be treated to the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Should I not be here when she shows back up?” Harry looked worried.

“It’s completely up to you. Do you want to be subjected to her grilling us about which sex positions we tried last night?” Draco watched for Harry’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. 

He didn’t recoil or look disgusted. That was a good sign. He did, however, turn scarlet and sputter incoherently.

“I don’t-! That’s not- we didn’t,” He looked around the room helplessly for a moment before meeting Draco’s curious gaze. “We could go out for breakfast and avoid her?”

“You’re a genius, Potter.” Draco broke into a wide grin. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” 

“Not such a brain dead prat now, am I?” Harry teased.

“I’ll give you half. You’re only half brain dead now.” Draco smirked.

“That’s progress. I’ll take it.” Harry laughed.

“Before we go anywhere I need a shower and some clean clothes.” Draco sighed, looking disdainfully at his wrinkled trousers. 

“That sounds like a good plan. Do you, er, happen to have two showers?”

“I do.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Although I don’t think my clothes will fit you.” He took the opportunity to study Harry’s physique. His shoulders were much broader than Draco’s. He would probably rip one of his shirts if he tried to wear it.

“That won’t be a problem.” Harry assured him. “Kreacher?”

“What the hell-” Draco was cut off by a loud crack.


	25. In which Kreacher sheds some light on a sore subject and Harry takes Draco on a date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finally discovers why he was the only new recruit to feel pain while receiving the mark. Kreacher finally meets Young Master Malfoy. Harry covets modernized plumbing and plans a date in the shower. Draco is forced to order for both of them. Harry finds an album he's been wanting, and Draco makes an adorable confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their first date! 😍😍😍 Fair warning: there is cute fluff overload in this chapter. Not sorry at all, the boys deserve it after 24 chapters of angst. Now that I have reached such a good pausing point, however, I *do* need to give my other fic some love. It's what would have happened if Regulus didn't die in the cave and ended up destroying all of the Horcruxes before Harry was even born. Pairings are Jagulus (Regulus Black/James Potter); WolfStar; Jily; and EVENTUALLY Drarry. It's called Power to Save the World if you're interested and you can find it on my profile. Keep in mind this doesn't mean I'm abandoning Home or going on hiatus with Home, updates will just be happening a tad slower because I'm going to be working on Power as well now.  
> As always, a HUGE shout out to my amazing beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark! They make my writing better and make these fics possible!  
> If you've stuck with me this long, thank you!!! If you're just joining, welcome! If you like what you're reading, leave kudos and a comment! They fuel my writing fire. If you don't like it, leave a comment on what I can do better. Happy reading!

An old house-elf with wisps of white hair coming out of his floppy ears was suddenly standing in the middle of Draco’s living room. He was wearing a freshly pressed pillowcase and had an ugly old locket proudly on display around his neck. It was possibly the oddest house-elf Draco had ever seen. Well, aside from Dobby after he had been freed. 

“Master Harry summoned me?” The elf asked in a surprisingly rough voice.

Harry had a house-elf? 

“Yeah, I was wondering if you would mind bringing me a fresh change of clothes and my shower things. We’re going out for breakfast.” Harry smiled fondly at the elf and Draco was confused by their familiarity.

“Of course, that is being no problem.” It bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry reached down to pet the elf on the head. It leaned into his touch and Draco was flabbergasted. 

“You was not home last night. Is everything good?” The elf looked up adoringly from beneath Harry’s hand which was still scratching his ear.

“Yeah, it’s brilliant actually. I hope you didn’t wait up for me too long.” Harry said as if it were normal to be questioned by your house elf.

“Kreacher knows better than to wait up for you. You is out late lots more than you is home at a proper hour.” The elf rolled his eyes and Draco almost had a stroke. 

Wasn’t that disrespectful? Wouldn’t he have to punish himself now?

“Fair enough.” Harry chuckled. 

“Kreacher will return with master's things shortly.” The elf disapparated without being dismissed. 

Draco stared at where the house-elf had disappeared, struck totally speechless.

“You alright?” Harry sounded concerned. 

“You have a house-elf.” was all he managed to say.

“Er, yeah. I inherited him from Sirius. I tried to give him clothes but he refused to take them. He’s pretty stubborn when he wants to be.”

“How is he able to talk to you like that?” Draco was growing more and more confused by the moment.

“Like what?”

“Like he’s your... friend?”

“He is my friend, in a manner of speaking. We’ve been through a lot together. He actually hated me when we first met.” Harry waxed nostalgic and Draco was no less confused.

“You inherited him from Sirius? Sirius Black?” Draco decided to give up on understanding Harry’s relationship with the elf. 

“Yeah. He was my godfather.” Harry said nonchalantly.

“Wasn’t he a mass murderer?” Draco asked faintly. 

“Oh, he was innocent. He never betrayed my parents or killed those muggles. It was all Wormtail.”

“That...makes sense, actually.” Draco was relieved to understand at least something. He had never heard tales of Black hanging around the Dark Lord, but Wormtail he was familiar with. “How did he…?”

“Die? That night at the Ministry. He was dueling your aunt.” Harry seemed to shrink in on himself and Draco immediately regretted the question.

“I’m so sor-”

For the second time that morning, he was cut off by a loud crack.

“Kreacher took the liberty of picking proper clothes.” The elf bowed, presenting Harry with a bundle of neatly folded clothes and a toiletries basket.

“Er, thanks Kreacher.” Harry took the items and then inspected the clothing items. “Hold on a minute, Kreacher. I don’t think these are mine.”

“That’s because they belonged to brave Master Regulus.” The elf looked like he was about to cry.

“Oh.” Harry looked taken aback. “Are you sure you want me to have these?”

“Master must look presentable. You is going out.”

Draco missed Harry’s reply as some things clicked into place.

“Hold on, Master Regulus, as in Regulus Black? The Death Eater that disappeared without a trace?” 

The elf turned to look at him as if he hadn’t seen him sitting there.

“Brave Master Regulus was the most honorable resident of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.” He intoned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How incredibly rude of me. Draco, this is Kreacher. Kreacher, this is Draco Malfoy.” Harry flushed.

“Young Master Malfoy!” Kreacher squealed excitedly before throwing himself at Draco’s feet. “It is such an honor, sir. I am grateful for finally meeting you at last Master Malfoy sir.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Draco shot Harry a quizzical look. He hadn’t expected such a powerful reaction from the elf.

“Such a kind and great young master!” Kreacher seemed to be crying as he continued to grovel at his feet.

“It’s because you’re a Black.” Harry whispered. “When I first inherited him he told me he would rather belong to you.”

“How absurd.” Draco looked down at the elf with a mixture of amusement and confusion. “Er, Kreacher?”

“Yes, Master Malfoy-”

“Draco is fine.” He prickled at being called Malfoy. That name had been sullied beyond redemption during the war.

“Master Draco is too kind.” Kreacher pushed himself off the floor, giving another bow.

“Can you tell me about Regulus?” Draco pressed. He had been curious about the mysterious Death Eater for over three years at this point. 

“What is Master Draco wanting to be knowing?” 

“What happened to him? Even the Dark Lord never knew.”

“He died in the Dark Lords cave. He asked me to destroy the Dark Lords locket but Kreacher failed. Kreacher failed brave Master Regulus!” The elf started crying in earnest.

“It’s alright, Kreacher. I destroyed it for you. You did very well protecting the locket for all those years and capturing the thief who took it. You made Regulus proud. I promise.” Harry placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder, speaking in a low soothing voice. “It’s alright. You’re a good elf.”

“Clever Master Harry.” Kreacher hiccuped, wiping at his eyes. “Thank you for completing brave Master Regulus’s secret mission.”

“Of course. Why don’t you go home and spend some time in Regulus’s room? That should make you feel better, yeah? I can fill Draco in on the rest.”

“Kreacher won’t. Kreacher must be brave for Master Regulus.” The elf shook his head adamantly. 

“I only have one more question for you, Kreacher. It’s alright if you don’t know the answer, it’s just a burning curiosity. The Dark Lord had made a comment about Regulus and me… apparently, we were the only Death Eaters to feel pain while receiving the dark mark. Do you know why?”

“Master Regulus and Master Draco are virtuous. That is the cause of the pain. The evilness of your marks was fighting the goodness of your souls. Master Regulus would weep in private. He only shared this with poor Kreacher. He needed someone to understand. Mistress and Master Orion were bad people. They would hurt brave Master Regulus if he tried to confide this in them. And Master Sirius, the ungrateful-”

“Kreacher.” Harry said warningly.

“Master Sirius had already abandoned him. He only had Kreacher to confide in. Kreacher helped him as best he could, but there is no magic that can heal a hurting soul. Kreacher was powerless to make him feel better.” The elf was crying again and Draco felt bad for him. 

“Thank you, Kreacher. That’s all I needed to know. You can...er, go visit Regulus’s room?” He shot Harry a worried glance, but he nodded in affirmation.

“Thank you, Master Draco. Master Harry.” 

And with that he disapparated and silence fell.

The mark hurt because he was...pure? Memories of feeling as if his very soul was on fire surfaced and suddenly everything made sense. He had thought he was just being dramatic. He had to force himself to focus on something else before he got lost in the ghosts of his past.

“So, the Dark Lord’s locket…?”

“Salazar Slytherin’s locket. He turned it into a Horcrux, yeah.” Harry said stiffly.

“And this Regulus went after it?”

“He did. Voldemort had asked him to borrow Kreacher so he could hide the locket. The protection he used required a sacrifice. What Voldemort hadn’t counted on, however, was the power of elf magic. Kreacher survived and went crying to Regulus.”

“Did he know what it was?”

“I think Kreacher told him what he could and he connected the dots. Regulus had Kreacher take him to the cave and sacrificed himself so that Kreacher could live and destroy it. He left a note for Voldemort in a decoy locket.” Draco was surprised to hear the bitterness in Harry’s voice.

“What happened to the decoy locket?”

“Dumbledore and I… we went after it thinking it was the Horcrux. He ordered me to let him be the sacrifice and then-” Harry stopped talking abruptly and glared at the ceiling. Draco used that tactic too often not to recognize it as a way to hide tears and he suddenly felt ashamed for asking such intrusive questions. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t talk about this. Not right now.”

“I understand. I’m sorry for prying. You don’t have to tell me anything.” Draco reached out to take Harry’s hand but pulled back at the last second. He wasn’t sure exactly where they stood and he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and drive him away. 

Harry looked over at him with a devastated expression and Draco’s resolve disintegrated. He reached out and pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly as he felt Harry release a shuddering breath. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He absentmindedly stroked Harry’s hair.

Harry didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he relaxed into Draco. Such a simple display of trust made his heart feel like it would burst out of his chest. Harry didn’t pull back until Draco’s heart had slowed to a normal rhythm. 

“I’m sorry, it's just-”

“I get it. Trust me, you have nothing to apologize for.” Draco forced him to meet his gaze until he nodded. “Now, how about those showers?”

***

Draco’s showers were amazing. Harry had all but forgotten what a wonder modern plumbing was and now he was determined to update his own at Grimmauld Place. The water pressure was absolutely heavenly and you could control the water temperature beyond hell water and arctic tundra. 

Not even the wonders of non-crippling water temperature, however, could adequately distract him from the fact that he was about to go on a date with Draco Malfoy. 

Why had he suggested an entire date day? He didn’t have a clue what a proper date consisted of past the classic dinner and a movie. What was he supposed to do? What did normal people do on day dates? 

Hermione had taken Pansy mini-golfing when they first got together and Pansy loved it. Somehow he doubted mini-golf was up Draco’s alley. Pansy had taken Hermione ‘gallery hopping’ and Hermione said she had a blast, but Draco worked in a gallery. He probably wouldn’t want to spend his day off in one. Ron had taken Marcy, one of their fellow Aurors, out to a museum. He later heard Marcy complaining to Zack that the museum was boring and Ron wouldn’t stop asking the muggle tour guide stupid questions, so he quickly discounted that idea. He knew Neville’s go-to day date was visiting the botanical gardens, but Draco didn’t strike him as the biggest fan of herbology. Luna of course took her dates blibbering humdinger hunting, but Harry was pretty sure Draco wouldn’t enjoy that either. 

Harry wracked his brains trying to think of something that might make Draco happy. Inspiration struck as he was conditioning his hair. If he was going with the cliche dinner and a movie, why not stick with that theme and have a picnic in the park? It was mundane and very muggle, but it was the best he could come up with on such short notice. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting to happen when he asked Draco out on a date. That had been his intention from the start, but he never quite believed Draco would say yes. Now here he was, planning their date in the shower. He really should have been better prepared.

He got ready quickly, not wanting to keep Draco waiting, and laughed when he saw Kreacher had included eyeliner with his things. He supposed today counted as a special occasion. It wasn’t every day you went on your first date with a beautiful man. Kreacher had even color-coordinated it with his outfit and he wondered idly if the elf was watching him and George the other day. If he did, he obviously thought Harry wore it well enough to put it in his toiletries basket.

Harry uncapped the navy blue liner and stared at it apprehensively. He hadn’t practiced putting it on himself yet and he still didn't have a clue what he was doing. He held the thin tube up to his eye and pulled down his lower lid, then paused. He was going on a date. What if he messed it up and it looked horrible? He sighed and put the cap back on before grabbing his glasses. Maybe next time. He gave his wet hair one last comb through and studied his reflection critically. It seemed he and Regulus wore roughly the same size. The soft, dark blue tunic fit him well and it looked nice against his darker skin. The deep v-neckline was held loosely together with a thin black leather string and Harry didn’t bother to tie it. It looked better undone. The hem was a bit too long so he tucked it into his pants. The black pants were a little tight, but they didn’t look bad so he decided to roll with it. They were no worse than a pair of skinny jeans. It certainly wasn’t something Harry would wear on a daily basis, but it worked for now. 

By the time he made it back to the living room he expected Draco to be waiting impatiently, but he found it empty. Draco had already cleared the tea and coffee mess from earlier so he decided to look at Draco’s drawings some more. He pulled the sketchbooks off the shelf and brought them over to the couch. Draco had apparently organized them by year because he watched himself and Draco’s friends growing older with each book. It was like Draco had taken snapshots with his pencil. Everything was so detailed, from the subject of the picture to the background scenery. Harry was mildly surprised to recognize a lot of the moments Draco had drawn out, much as he had with the burnt drawing of Ron, Hermione, and him. He was humbled by how many times Draco chose him to draw. He had drawn him flying around the Quidditch pitch and goofing off in class, sleeping through History of Magic, and even a few of him fighting the Hungarian Horntail during the tournament. There were countless pictures of him laughing with his friends in the great hall and even some of him prepping ingredients and glowering at his cauldron in Potions. With each new picture, Harry grew impossibly fonder of the Slytherin until he felt his heart might explode.

“Didn’t you see enough of those last night?” Draco’s voice made him jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever see enough of them, to be honest.” Harry smiled, then did an embarrassing double-take as Draco came closer. “You look….” he struggled to find the word. “Nice?”

“Eloquent as ever.” Draco rolled his eyes.

His Slytherin green collared shirt was left open, revealing a tight black tee with a silver dragon design. The long sleeves were rolled up to expose his wrists but left his dark mark completely covered and he seemed to have the same taste in tight black pants as Regulus. What captured Harry’s attention the most, however, were his eyes. They were accentuated with thin lines of black and seemed to glow when he smiled.

“Great?” Harry tried again. Draco didn’t seem impressed. “No, wait. You look fantastic.”

“Thank you.” He shot him a cheeky grin and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “You look pretty fantastic yourself.”

“Er, thanks.” Harry felt his cheeks grow hot. He had never been good at taking compliments. 

“Are you done with these?” Draco motioned towards the mess he had made of the sketchbooks and Harry felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his neck. 

“For now.” He allowed. “Sorry, I’ll put them away.” He picked up the one he had been leafing through and set it aside, keeping in mind that it was the second book for fourth year. He hadn’t reached years five or six, so those were still good, but he had to quickly flip through the others to make sure they were in the correct order. When he was fairly certain he had them stacked properly he handed them to Draco, just to be safe. “Did I get it right?”

Draco took them with a quizzical smile, checked the first drawing of each book, and handed them back. “You did, thank you. How did you…?”

“I saw you sort them last night, then I noticed they were in chronological order while I was looking through them.” Harry shrugged. “You keep everything so neat and organized, I didn’t want to mess anything up.” 

“I’ve been told I’m a bit of a clean freak.” Draco sighed as he watched Harry put the sketchbooks back on their shelf. 

“Good, maybe you can help me reign in my chaos then.” Harry snorted, joining Draco in the middle of the living room. “Ready to leave?”

“Quickly,” Draco smirked. “Before Pansy and Hermione come by with a congratulatory cake.”

“Godric, they would.” Harry groaned. “Let’s go.”

Draco led the way, locking the door behind them with a muttered spell. When they made it past the wards he looked at Harry expectantly.

“Did you have somewhere in mind, or am I allowed to pick the breakfast spot?”

“By all means.” Harry grinned, taking Draco’s arm when he offered it. 

Draco brought them to a rustic breakfast-brunch-lunch cafe tucked away on the boardwalk. Harry had never seen so many breakfast options. He contemplated what to order as he sipped his coffee and was a bit startled to discover Draco was watching him.

“Go ahead, try something you wouldn’t normally get.” He smiled when their eyes met and Harry suddenly had to remind himself to breathe.

“What if I don’t like it?” He asked weakly.

“Then I’ll get something you do like and we can switch.” Draco poured himself more coffee.

“You should get what you like, though.” Harry frowned.

“I like the entire menu.” He shrugged. “Well, besides the avocado toast. As long as you don't get that we should be safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just pick something, Potter.” He rolled his eyes.

Draco always seemed to revert to using his last name when embarrassed or frustrated and Harry didn’t quite know what to make of it. He kind of liked it in an odd way. When he saw the server heading towards their table with her notepad at the ready he panicked.

“Order for me.” He shut his menu as she approached.

“What? I can’t-”

“Are we ready, gentlemen?” She smiled at them.

“Yes, we are.” Harry smirked at Draco’s annoyed expression. “Draco?”

“I’ll have the Farm Fresh skillet, eggs over easy and he will have the lemon ricotta pancakes.” Draco graced their server with a warm smile after one last sharp look at Harry.

“Egg-cellent choice!” the server chirped and Draco laughed.

“Very punny.” Harry chuckled.

“Thank you, I try.” She grinned. “I’ll get that right in for you.”

“That was rude.” Draco was back to glaring at him as soon as she left, but with that eyeliner Harry found he didn't’ really mind. 

“What?” He played innocent.

“Forcing me to order for you.” His expression softened with a teasing smirk. “Now if you hate it, it’s all my fault.”

“I couldn’t decide.” He shrugged.

Harry was slightly surprised to find that being on a date with Draco was as effortless as their study sessions. They chatted and teased one another and Harry snorted at his own obliviousness. They had been flirting with each other this entire time. Now he understood Draco’s rant against his intelligence last night. Maybe his brain really was full of Wrackspurts. 

The lemon ricotta pancakes were divine and he even tried a bite of Draco’s skillet, which was also delicious. Draco seemed rather pleased with himself for picking two things Harry liked so he felt he was forgiven for making him order for both of them. When breakfast was over they wandered around the boardwalk, window shopping and testing the waters of their new relationship. Harry tentatively took Draco’s hand as they walked and Draco rewarded him with a happy sigh. It felt strange, holding hands with Draco Malfoy- but it also felt incredibly right. Eventually, they found their way inside a muggle record shop and Harry enjoyed the look of wonder on Draco’s face as he saw the vast rows of classic vinyls and CDs. 

“This is all muggle music?” His voice was filled with awe.

“Yeah.”

“There’s so much of it. Are they all different?”

“For the most part. There are multiple copies of a lot of albums so that more than one person can buy it.” Harry led him down the closest aisle and started thumbing through the bin of records. “Look, they’re alphabetized by band.”

“Sublime, Sound Garden, Smashing Pumpkins, Styx. What kind of band names are these?” Draco flipped curiously through the row in front of him. 

“Cool ones.” Harry grinned.

“Merlin, Sex Pistols?” Draco pulled out the violently yellow album.

“Oi, they’re basically the gods of punk rock. They revolutionized the music industry in the 70s. That album’s practically a national treasure, I’ve never seen an actual copy before. I’ve got to buy this.” Harry grabbed it from him, flipping it over to check the price. “Figures it’s bloody expensive.”

“How expensive?” Draco was looking at the album with an apprehensive expression. 

“I could buy it in galleons but I don't have enough muggle money on me.” Harry sighed.

“I have some muggle money. I could trade you for your galleons and then you might have enough.” Draco offered.

“Really? That would be awesome.” Harry was taken aback by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“How much do you need?” Draco pulled out a clip of banknotes and Harry stared.

He knew he was rich now, and that if he converted all of his gold into muggle money he would have a lot more than Draco was holding, but he had still never seen so many banknotes in his life. It had to be at least a thousand pounds. Why did Draco carry such a large amount of muggle money?

“Er, twenty pounds should do it.” He blinked, then pulled out his coin purse, pulling out the necessary amount of galleons and sickles. “Thank you.”

“Happy to be of service.” Draco carefully peeled a twenty pound note from the stack and handed it to Harry before accepting the coins.

They worked their way through the entire store and Draco even bought a Queen and a Pearl Jam album at Harry’s insistence that he broaden his music tastes. By the time noon came around Harry was shocked the morning had passed so quickly. They decided a side trip back to Draco’s was called for so they could drop off their purchases and recover from the hours of walking they had just done. After a nice relaxing cuppa Harry managed to slip away to Hermione’s for a bit while Draco received a floo call from his mother. Pansy was waiting to ambush him and Harry berated himself for not expecting it. He answered her questions as evasively as he could while asking Hermione for help packing a picnic. Between Hermione’s calm efficiency and Pansy’s flair for the romantic and extravagant, he had what he thought was possibly the best picnic basket ever packed in record time. With a quick kiss on each witch's cheek, he rushed off to get back to Draco before he thought Harry had run off. 

This time there was no hesitation when he knocked on the door and Draco answered almost immediately. 

“You came back.” He beamed.

“Of course I did, we still have a whole day to spend together.” Harry felt his stomach flutter at the way Draco’s face lit up.

“You aren’t sick of me yet?” Draco teased, but Harry caught the small flash of insecurity that crossed his face.

“I will never be sick of you.” He promised, cupping his jaw with one hand before planting a quick kiss on his full lips. 

Draco blinked rapidly when he pulled back and Harry couldn’t help but grin at his stunned expression. 

“Ok.” He said breathlessly.

“Come on, I’ve got lunch all planned.” Harry released his jaw and grabbed his hand instead, pulling him out the door and down his front path.

Draco let him take the lead, closing and locking the door with a quick flick of his wand.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going far.” Harry winked as he brought them to what he had come to think of as their spot on the beach during the housewarming party.

He summoned his favorite blanket and laid it out in roughly the same spot they had shared a bottle of fire whiskey before unpacking the picnic. The girls had supplied them with carefully wrapped plates of cheese, crackers, and summer sausage, clusters of white table grapes, cucumber and Caprese sandwiches, a bowl of wild berries, and a bottle of wine. In the very bottom of the basket were two plastic wine flutes 

“How did you manage to put this all together?” Draco immediately set to work unwrapping the dishes of snacks.

“Ah, you might not like the answer.” Harry grimaced as he opened the wine with his wand.

“Will I find out eventually?” Draco arched an eyebrow.

“Definitely.” There was no way Pansy would keep her part in this a secret.

“Then I don’t need to know right now.” Draco smiled, laying back on the blanket and looking at the ocean. “I love living here. I don’t think I will ever get tired of this view.”

“I was originally going to do a picnic in the park, but then I decided that this was more appropriate.” Harry hummed, stretching out next to him and handing him one of the wine flutes.

“Why?” Draco looked over at him and the sunlight illuminated his silver eyes, making them seem iridescent.

“Because this is where I realized I liked you.” Harry reached over to stroke his jawline. “Someone had brought up the war and reminded me of some things I don’t like thinking about so I came out here to be alone. If anyone else had come to talk to me, even if it was Ron or Hermione, I would have told them to sod off. But you- you made me laugh and took my mind off it.”

“Really? You started liking me at my housewarming party?” Draco’s expression was unreadable.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Harry said thoughtfully. “I think I’ve liked you for a while, I just realized it at the party.”

Draco leaned towards him and claimed his lips in a searing, all-consuming kiss. Harry lost track of space and time. His entire world gave way to fire and he was no longer sure if it was the sun causing the red glow behind his eyelids or the electricity cracking between him and Draco. 

He had never experienced anything quite as powerful. 

George and Fred were Harry’s first love. Nothing could ever change that. They were there for him when no one else was and they helped him through a lot. They shared so much love and affection and passion- but nothing like this. 

“I have known since third year.” Draco whispered when he eventually pulled back. “When you almost died during the Quidditch match because the dementors had stormed the pitch. All I could think of was how miserable life would be without you.”

“I thought you hated me.” Harry tried to comprehend Draco’s words. “You came to the next game dressed as a dementor just to fuck with me.”

“I had to. It was what was expected of me.” Draco looked so regretful that Harry couldn’t help but believe him. “If anyone found out the Malfoy heir was gay for Harry sodding Potter…”

Draco shuddered at the thought and things started clicking into place. 

Harry grew contemplative as old memories surfaced, taking on a whole new meaning with this new information. 

“Oh.” He said somewhat lamely. 

“Oh?” Draco looked apprehensive. 

“So you started tormenting me more than ever because you liked me?” Harry couldn't stop the foolish grin from spreading across his face. 

“I-” Draco started to object, then sighed. “Yes, that’s the gist of it. Any kind of attention from you was better than no attention at all.”

“You know, watching you at the Yule Ball is what made me realize I was gay.” Harry laughed.

“What? Really?” Draco was finally smiling again. “I did look damn good in those dress robes.”

“When Nott cut in on my dance with Pansy I just about died. I was so intimidated by how graceful you were.”

“I almost died as well.” Draco laughed. “It was all a nefarious plot between Pansy and Theo because they knew how I felt about you. By the time I realized what they were doing it was much too late.”

“I’m glad their little scheme worked, then. Our short dance was honestly the highlight of my night.” Harry winked playfully.

“Oh, it was undoubtedly the highlight of mine as well.” Draco picked up his wine and took a refined sip.

It reminded Harry that they had an entire picnic to enjoy so he grabbed the closest plate.

“Here, help me eat all this before the sun spoils it.” He plucked a grape from the bunch and offered it to Draco. 

Draco considered it for a moment, then leaned forward and ate it directly from his hand. A small thrill went through him as Draco’s lips brushed his fingertips. It gave him a wicked idea, and apparently, Draco was completely on board. They consumed the entire picnic by feeding each other- sometimes by throwing grapes and berries at the other until they caught it in their mouths and sometimes by placing the food directly on the other’s tongue. It was rather strange and absurdly intimate, but they both had a blast.

After the food was gone they stayed on the beach, talking and kissing in equal measure and enjoying the hypnotic call of the ocean. The sun moved much too quickly across the sky and soon it was time to pack up and get ready for dinner.


	26. In which Harry makes a confession and Draco decided he needs a leather trench coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The classic dinner and a movie. Harry and Draco have an awkward "exes" conversation, Draco tries muggle candy, and Harry explains what telephones and guns are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy the continued cute fluff now that we've finally reached the end of our slow burn! I enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy reading it! As always, a major shout out to my amazing beta readers AlexClio and SandZhark for making this fic possible   
> Happy reading!

The restaurant was undeniably intimate and Draco had to give Harry credit. He had never really thought of Harry as the romantic type, but here they were. The lighting was muted and the table had a candle enclosed in an elegant vase as the centerpiece, casting a warm flickering glow over their meal. All around them couples were either conversing quietly or stealing kisses, and a string quartet was playing softly in the corner. 

If he were being completely honest with himself, the entire past twenty-four hours were unbelievably idyllic. Strolling down the boardwalk hand-in-hand, having a picnic by the sea- it was like something lifted straight out of a fairytale. He still wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t some weird, strangely realistic dream. 

“What in Salazar’s name is a movie?” He arched an eyebrow over his wine glass.

Apparently, the big finale to their perfect day was some muggle invention called the cinema. Draco knew he wasn’t exactly an expert on all things Muggle, but he hadn’t ever heard of movies before. 

“Er, you’re familiar with plays, right?” Harry didn’t seem to mind explaining the intricacies of muggle things Draco didn’t understand. 

He was endlessly curious, and of course Hermione and Pansy would explain things if he asked, but he felt awkward about it. Perhaps it was because he had explained the intricacies of pureblood culture to Harry that it didn’t feel awkward to ask him about muggle culture. It seemed a fair trade, after all. 

“Of course. Mother is quite the fan of theater.” He nodded.

“Well, it’s like a play but it’s recorded on a special type of camera and they have better props and special effects-”

“Special effects?”

“Yeah, like effects that are added electronically after filming.”

“Electronically? You mean like the boombox and those horrid humming contraptions that produce light?” Draco tried to mask his apprehension.

“Exactly.” Harry smiled. “I know you’re not a fan of electricity, but I think you’ll want to give the movies a chance.”

“How do you know I don’t like electricity?” Draco couldn’t help but wonder.

“Oh, er.” Harry blushed deliciously. “Hermione might have mentioned it while we were shopping for your housewarming presents.” 

“That was almost a month ago.”

“It was.”

“Interesting.” Draco smirked, gratified that he cared enough to pay such close attention.

“What’s interesting?” Harry asked as he finished his last bite of beef bourguignon.

“You are.” Draco realized he had been gazing at Harry for an uncomfortable amount of time. He distracted himself by polishing off the last of his tartiflette before his staring could become embarrassing. “So this cinema is like the theater, but in a picture?”

“Sort of.” Harry frowned thoughtfully. “It’s a little hard to explain.”

“I suppose I will just have to see it for myself then.” He hummed agreeably. Honestly, at this point, Harry could take him to watch paint dry and he would be satisfied just to be spending time with him. 

“You ready to go, then?” Harry’s face lit up at the prospect.

“No room for dessert?” Draco had been looking forward to something sweet to balance the savory meal.

“We can grab dessert at the cinema.” Harry flashed him a lopsided grin and Draco found that he would go along with just about anything Harry wanted when he smiled at him like that. 

“Alright.” He felt his lips form an answering smile automatically.

Harry pushed back from the table and set what seemed like an exorbitant amount of banknotes on the table before reaching out to take Draco’s hand. Draco interlaced their fingers and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet. He wondered idly if he would ever get used to the tingle that fizzled anywhere Harry’s skin touched his own. He hoped he didn’t. 

Harry made an effort to explain what he should expect at the cinema while they walked to an apparation point, but nothing could have prepared him for the immensity of it. The sun was setting and the massive building struck an imposing figure against the blazing orange and powder blue sky. Harry didn’t seem to be intimidated by the sheer size of the theater, waltzing right up to a strange booth-type thing encased in glass. He greeted the person that appeared to be trapped inside cheerfully and then turned to ask Draco’s opinion on which movie they should see. 

Draco blinked up at the list of titles with jumbled up numbers next to them and picked the first one that caught his fancy. Harry seemed pleased by his choice and purchased two tickets before leading him through a scintillating wall of glass. 

The inside was even more grandiose; what appeared to be some kind of granite flooring paved the way to a counter displaying every type of candy and snack food imaginable and the smell of something delicious permeated the air. To the left of the entrance was a dimly lit arcade with an air-hockey table and to the right was a fully functional bar. Draco had never seen anything quite like it in his life. 

“This is incredible.” He muttered to Harry, eyeing a rowdy group of muggle teenagers that were shouting excitedly in the gaming area warily. 

“Welcome to the cinema.” Harry grinned. “We have some time to kill before our movie starts, do you want to check out the arcade or the bar first?”

“Bar, I suppose.” Draco allowed Harry to lead him over to the small dining area. 

“Excellent, I can show you how muggles drink.” Harry enthused. 

“Consider me intrigued.” 

Harry greeted the bartender as if they were old friends, ordering something called a Bramble cocktail and a Mojito while he pulled out his wallet. The bartender didn’t seem at all pleased to be making their orders, but he was polite enough after Harry tipped him handsomely. Draco hung back awkwardly, not quite sure what to do while they exchanged pleasantries. The bartender chatted briefly with Harry while he scooped ice and muddled mint leaves, then turned his back while he compiled ingredients. Harry turned to face Draco and reached for him with both hands. Draco complied immediately, letting Harry pull him closer and brush his lips with a quick kiss. 

“You’re going to love this. At least, I hope you do.” Harry seemed nervous.

“I don’t doubt it.” Draco smiled reassuringly. “Although at this point I’m starting to wonder how long you’ve been planning all of this.”

A flicker of fear mixed with disappointment flashed across Harry’s face and Draco reached up to smooth the worried furrow that wrinkled his brow.

“Why, is it lame?”

“No! Not at all, it’s perfect. This whole day has been...phenomenal.” Draco felt heat rise in his cheeks. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

"Really?" Harry seemed surprised. "Haven't you been on a date before?"

"Actually, no." Draco fidgeted with the collar of Harry's shirt as an excuse to avoid looking at him.

"You've dated before though." Harry seemed uncertain. "Haven't you?"

"Not really, no." He frowned.

"What about that Nott guy? I saw… I mean, I thought you two…" Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Ah, well, I suppose there is Theo. He's about the only real relationship I've ever had, but we never went on any dates. The rest of them were flings and one-night stands so I don't think they count." Draco could feel the blush in his cheeks spreading to his neck and ears.

"Well, that's a shame. Guess I will just have to make up for that, then." Harry’s warm smile made him relax. 

"How do you plan to do that?" Draco laughed.

"Don't make any plans this week. I'm afraid you're all booked up." Harry grinned. "I'm taking you out every night and I'm going to show you how Gryffindors date."

"How Gryffindors date." Draco snorted. "I take it you have a lot of experience in that area."

"Oh. Er, well I-I have a bit, yeah. Not necessarily with planning them, but..." Harry trailed off awkwardly. 

"But you've been taken on many dates?"

"A few, yeah."

"Now I'm curious. How many people have wined and dined The Chosen One?" Draco smirked, a little relieved that Harry seemed just as embarrassed as he felt.

"Erm, technically only two." Harry flushed.

"They must have been a memorable two. Weren't you with one of the Weasley twins at some point?" Draco supplied helpfully, thinking back to when Pansy had done some digging for him. 

"Both. " Harry said matter of factly.

“Both?” He certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

"Yeah." Harry grinned sheepishly. 

"Oh." Draco blinked. "At separate times?"

"No, together."

"Really?" Draco was, somewhat impressed. 

"Yeah." Harry’s face was getting more red with each passing second.

"Nice." Draco raised one eyebrow as he considered the complexities of dating two people at the same time.

“Nice?” Harry narrowed his eyes at him, seeming unsure if Draco was joking or not. 

“Your drinks.” The bartender interrupted before Draco could reply. Harry grabbed both glasses, thanking him before leading Draco to a high-top table. 

“It must have been an interesting relationship. How did that happen?” Draco climbed up onto one of the stools with as much poise as he could manage.

“They just decided I was their boyfriend one day and didn’t bother to tell me.” Harry smiled nostalgically. “Which one do you want to try first?”

Draco eyed the tall glass with a sprig of mint poking out of it and the shorter glass with a mound of ice that looked like a volcano uncertainly. Neither of them looked particularly appealing.

“Which one do you like more?” He hedged.

“I like them both.” Harry shrugged.

“I bet you do.” Draco smirked.

Harry snorted at the innuendo and rolled his eyes, setting both drinks on the table. 

“Just try them both and then pick.” He pushed the drinks towards Draco.

“Alright, alright.” Draco grumbled good-naturedly, tentatively tasting the Bramble first. Sweet berries and bitter alcohol intermingled on his tongue and Draco was surprised to find he liked it. “It’s good.” 

“Yeah?” Harry grinned. “Try the Mojito. I think you’ll like that one even more.”

Draco complied, using the long straw to swirl the contents of the glass before taking a hesitant sip. Mint and lime together sounded atrocious, but it made for an incredible drink. His eyes grew wide as the unique flavors coated his tastebuds and Harry seemed delighted by his reaction. 

“Good, right?” 

“Insanely.” Draco took a more confident pull on the straw and was gratified that it was just as delicious as the first sip. 

“I had a feeling you’d go for the Mojito.” Harry looked much too self-satisfied, but Draco didn’t mind. 

“You wouldn’t think mint and lime would go together.” He hummed.

“Two very different flavors coming together to make something fantastic.” Harry took a sip of the Bramble. “They complement each other.”

“Are you trying to say something?” Draco could read between the lines, but he wanted to hear Harry say it.

“Er, just that it’s kind of like...us. We’re so different and people would probably never think that we’d be good together, but I think we complement each other.” Harry tugged on his ear in embarrassment and Draco reached across the table to take his hand.

“I think you’re absolutely right.” He smiled. 

It was strange that they only spent a single day together as a couple yet Draco felt as comfortable with Harry as if they had been dating for years. He supposed some of it might be due to how long he’s had feelings for the prat, but that didn’t explain all of it. 

They just...fit. As if they were meant to be together. 

Being with Harry was as easy as breathing and Draco wondered why he waited so long to tell Harry how he felt. 

“Do you think-” He started, but then began to second guess himself. 

“Do I think what?” Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Do you think we would have worked back at Hogwarts?” In for a knut, in for a galleon. 

“I…” Harry’s face turned contemplative as he considered Draco’s question. “I don’t know, actually. My first instinct is to say no, but if you had asked me out after the Yule Ball I might have said yes. Well, I would have told you to sod off first, but I probably would have changed my answer later.”

“Is that when you…?” Draco wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

“Started liking you? I think so.” Harry didn’t have any trouble understanding his half-formed sentence. “The more I think about it though…”

“I know what you mean.” Draco gave Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I think this was inevitable since you said ‘Hello, Hogwarts too?’ to be completely honest.” Harry smiled shyly.

“Really?” Draco sat back in shock. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“You were the first wizard my age I had met. Of course I remembered.” Harry smiled quizzically.

“I was trying so hard to impress you, but every time I opened my mouth I just seemed to dig myself a deeper hole.” Draco chuckled mirthlessly at the memory. 

“You made me feel stupid, actually. Talking about houses and Quidditch when I’d only learned I was a wizard not even twelve hours before. I was just wishing I had something more interesting to say than ‘no’.” 

“I thought I was boring you.”

“More like scaring me.” Harry snorted. 

“Merlin, and then I brought up your dead parents.” Draco groaned at the stupidity of his past self.

“And insulted Hagrid.”

“And brought up blood purity with little to no tact whatsoever.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you didn’t like me.”

“All of that would have been forgivable, actually, if you hadn’t started off our very next encounter systematically shaming the only friend my age I had managed to make in over three years.” Harry reached over to brush a strand of hair off his face and Draco opened his eyes at the unexpected touch. 

“I’m sorry.” He said helplessly. “I didn’t know what a little prick I was being, I was just spouting off what my parents had told me.”

“I know that now,” Harry said gently. “I didn’t know what a self-righteous prat I sounded like back then either.”

“You were rather sanctimonious, weren’t you?” Draco felt his lips twitch in amusement.

“I was a bit, yeah. So we’re even.” Harry returned his smile immediately before raising his cocktail glass in a mock salute. 

“I’ll drink to that.” Draco gave him the ghost of a smile, clinking his glass against Harry’s.

They moved on to more light-hearted banter as they finished their drinks and Harry challenged him to a game or two of air-hockey before they had to find their theater. Draco was surprisingly good at it, winning two games out of three before Harry conceded and said it was time to buy snacks. Draco was slightly overwhelmed by the endless options of unfamiliar candy and told Harry to pick for him. This turned out to be a bit of a mistake because Harry ended up buying a dizzying array of candies and snacks for him to try and Draco wasn’t sure he would be able to eat it all. At Harry’s insistence, they also got a tub of something called popcorn to share and an odd fizzing drink Harry called coke. Once they had everything arranged so that they could carry it all without dropping anything they set off in search for theater 11. It was a pity they couldn’t simply shrink the items, but the stature of secrecy forbade it. 

Draco glanced around, trying to mask his awe at the dimly lit room with hundreds of seats arranged into neat rows. They were facing a massive white sheet of some material Draco couldn’t name and he cast Harry a questioning look. Harry just winked at him and lead him towards the back, climbing the strangely lit stairs. The theater was already quite full and people were still filing in, making mad grabs for the best seats and saving spots for friends who hadn’t arrived yet. Draco and Harry had managed to snag seats in the middle of the second to the last row, something Harry seemed quite pleased about. 

“What do you want first?” Harry asked excitedly, spreading the sweets across his lap like it was precious treasure.

“What’s your favorite?” Draco eyed the colorful wrappers apprehensively.

Harry immediately handed over a rather long, thin purple thing with the words ‘Nerds Rope’ stamped across it in large childish letters. Draco didn’t hesitate to open it, eager to see what strange confections muggles had thought up and how they measured up against wizarding candy. It was odd to both look at and touch; there were multicolored individual candies attached to a red length of something soft and pliable. With one last curious glance at Harry Draco nibbled a circumspect bite off the end. The tart sugar crystals dissolved on his tongue and the ‘rope’ Harry identified as a gummy was overly sweet.

It took a few more bites before Draco decided it was fantastic. 

Harry gave him Jelly Babies and Liquorice All Sorts, then little chocolate nuggets called Milk Duds. Draco didn’t like the way they seemed to glue his teeth together, but he had to admit they were good. As he was being instructed on how to properly eat something called a ‘Baby Bottle Pop’ the lights dimmed and the buzz of chatter died around them. Before Draco could ask Harry what was happening the big white thing at the front lit up.

Images flashed and there was suddenly music and voices larger than life surrounding the entire room. It was incredibly intense and Draco looked over at Harry with wide eyes.

“These are just the previews, little clips of movies that are coming out soon. Our movie will start after.” Harry whispered.

Draco understood now why Harry had said this experience was hard to explain. Harry continued to feed him candy until Draco had tried everything he had bought; Good and Plenty that somehow reminded him of licorice wands, Goobers which were like chocolate-covered peanuts, Maltesers that tasted like chocolate covered air, and Everlasting Gobstoppers which were little round hard candies that changed color when you sucked on them. It was impressive for muggle manufacturing. It had been a bit overwhelming at first, but by the time their feature film began to play he had grown somewhat acclimated to the oddity of watching people move across what Harry called a screen. 

As the opening credits rolled across the screen Harry collected the half-eaten packages of candy and set them aside before offering Draco the bucket of popcorn. Draco picked up a single white puff and popped it in his mouth. Muggles came up with the damndest things. 

A column of green rune-like characters turned into numbers and a strange trilling filled the theater. Two people off-screen held a hushed conversation and then the scene faded to a battalion of muggle police running through a building holding strange-looking weapons. They found a girl sitting alone in a room and the muggle police shouted at her to put her hands up and surrender. Draco was confused, but Harry leaned toward him and started whispering explanations in his ear. Draco shivered at the close contact. Harry’s velvet voice was almost more enjoyable than the movie itself. He told Draco the basics about phones and guns and other such muggle inventions as they came up. Draco was pleased when Harry wrapped his arm around him and simply rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder so he didn’t have to keep leaning over. It was oddly intimate, being so close in the darkened theater. He could see why it was a common date destination for muggles.

What seemed like an entire lifetime later the main character flew off into the sky and the scene faded to black. As music started playing and words began to roll across the screen the lights of the theater came back on and the entire theater seemed to break into conversation. 

“Well? What did you think?” Harry grinned, placing the still unfinished candy in the now-empty popcorn bucket.

“I want a black trench coat,” Draco smirked. “And the main character was rather hot.”

“Really? You like Keanu reeves?” Harry mused as they stood and stretched their stiff muscles.

“It might just be the leather.” Draco allowed. “You’d look devastating in a leather jacket.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry chucked.

They discussed the movie as they followed the crowd out of the theater and towards the front doors. Draco was slightly disoriented by how late it had grown while they were in the movie. It felt like they had been in a completely different world. Harry confidently lead them to the nearest apparation point and before he knew it Draco was back on his front porch with the waves crashing gently in the distance and the sweet smell of saltwater in the air. It helped him clear his head. 

“You’re off tomorrow, right?” Harry glanced up at him uncertainly.

“I am.” Draco reached out to caress his cheek, reveling in the novelty of being able to do so. “I do have plans in the evening though that I can’t get out of.”

He wondered idly just how much Pansy would kill him if he skipped out on his birthday dinner to spend time with Harry.

“That’s fine. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” Harry asked with a nervous edge in his voice.

“I do not. I was planning to get some painting done, but I suppose I can squeeze you in.” There wasn’t a better way to spend his birthday that Draco could think of. He might even be able to convince Pansy to let him bring Harry to dinner if he played his cards right.

“Perfect. I’ll be back here bright and early.” Harry beamed. 

“I look forward to it.” Draco’s heart skipped a beat when Harry pushed himself up on his tiptoes to capture his lips in a burning kiss.

“Goodnight, Draco.” Harry breathed before kissing him three more times in rapid succession.

“Goodnight, Harry.” Draco could feel the idiotic, besotted smile spreading across his lips but he couldn’t be arsed to contain it.

He leaned in for one last kiss before Harry disapparated, leaving him alone in the balmy summer air.


	27. In which Harry surprises Draco for his birthday and Narcissa makes a floo call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is determined to give Draco the best muggle-centric birthday ever. He had been noticing Draco's curiosity despite his best efforts to quell it- so he decides to surprise Draco with the classics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! So I have big plans for Draco's birthday. (Un)Fortunately (depending on how you look at it) this means I will be breaking his birthday up into multiple chapters, so bear with me! You will die of the cute by the time his birthday is done!  
> As always; a huge shoutout goes to my most loyal, most devoted Beta Reader AlexClio! Without her gentle bullying and constant willingness to help me brainstorm ideas, this fic would have been abandoned long ago. Also a shoutout to my lovely Beta Reader SandZhark! Without their fresh perspective, unintelligible voice notes with ugly crying, and constant questioning of my sanity, this fic would not be as much of a feels coaster.  
> Happy reading!

Harry inhaled deeply as he entered the freshly opened bakery. The divine aroma of rising dough and sweet confections welcomed him like a warm hug. 

“Good morning! Can I help you?” A kind-looking middle-aged man greeted him as he came out of the back with a fresh tray of coffee cakes in his hands. 

“Morning!” Harry approached the front counter. “I was hoping you could help me out with a pie.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place.” The man grunted, placing the tray in a display case. “What kind of pie were you interested in?”

“Preferably strawberry-rhubarb or cherry. He prefers tart this time of year.” Harry smiled as he remembered their conversation about the capricious nature of Draco’s favorite pie. Could it really have only been two days ago?

“You’re in luck then, I just made a fresh batch of cherry pies earlier and there’s some strawberry-rhubarb in the oven. How soon do you need it by?” The man came over and leaned against the counter casually.

“I’ve got a bit of shopping to do. How long on the strawberry-rhubarb?” 

“It’s got another forty minutes or so.” The man said thoughtfully.

“That’s perfect. Set one aside for me and I’ll be back for it in a bit.” Harry ran a running calculation on how much time he had before Draco was expecting him. 

“Can do. What name should I save it under?” He asked genially, grabbing a notepad and a pen.

“Potter.” Harry grinned when the man gave no reaction. He really loved the anonymity of the muggle world. “Harry Potter.”

“Alrighty, Mr. Potter.” The man wrote with a flourish and then glanced up at him. “Did you want to pay for that now, or later?”

“I can pay for it now.” Harry reached for his wallet. “Could I possibly buy birthday candles off you, too?”

“You certainly could.” The man rang up his purchases on the till. “Will that be all for you?”

“That should do it.” Harry fished out the necessary funds and left the baker with a generous tip before rushing off to hunt down the rest of the items needed for Draco’s surprise. 

An hour later found him shuffling the helium balloons and gift bag around so he could knock on Draco’s door without upsetting the pie. 

“What’s all this?” A delighted smile lit up Draco's face when he opened the door and saw Harry's balancing act.

“Happy birthday.” Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest at Draco’s reaction.

“How did you know it was my birthday?” Draco stepped back and relieved him of the pie before ushering him into the kitchen. 

“You’re joking, right?” Harry snorted as he set Draco’s presents on his kitchen table and tied the balloons to the back of one of the chairs. “I’m pretty sure I’ve known when your birthday was since first year.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Draco poked at the balloons curiously. “What are these?”

“They’re balloons. Muggles use them for celebrations like birthdays and anniversaries.” Harry tried to hide his amusement as Draco pulled experimentally on one of the strings and seemed overjoyed when it floated back up. 

“How do they stay up like that?” Draco reached up to touch the silvery orb, testing the dexterity of the latex with his fingers.

“They’re filled with a gas called helium. It makes balloons float and changes your voice if you breathe it in.” Harry smirked at the look of wonder on Draco’s face.

“It changes your voice? How?”

“Like this,” Harry grabbed the blue balloon and brought it down to eye level, pinching the latex so he could poke a hole without popping it. “Hand me that quill, will you?”

Draco handed him the quill that was laying on the edge of the table and watched in fascination as Harry used the nib to gently coax a hole in the latex between his fingers. Once he succeeded he placed his lips over the puncture and inhaled deeply before pinching it closed again, shooting Draco a cheeky grin.

“Happy birthday Draco!” he said in a flat, high-pitched voice.

A mixture of emotions flashed across Draco’s face before he burst out laughing.

“That’s ridiculous!” He snickered. “Can I try?”

“Sure, here.” Harry took one of Draco’s hands and brought his slender fingers so that they were touching where Harry had the balloon sealed. “You have to keep the hole pinched shut or all of the gas escapes at once.”

Draco took the balloon from him with an intense look of concentration before bringing it to his lips and taking a deep breath. When he pulled the balloon away he blinked several times in quick succession, then ginned.

“I feel a little light-headed.” He said in a hilariously high-pitched tone and his eyes grew wide at the sound. “Merlin, I sound like a pixie!”

Harry couldn’t keep the laughter from bubbling over and soon they were both giggling in silly voices. When the helium wore off Harry cast a quick reparo on the balloon and let it float back up amongst its now slightly bigger fellows.

“Muggles come up with the strangest things.” Draco beamed as he watched the balloon bounce into the others.

“They do.” Harry agreed. “Now, do you want birthday pie while it’s still hot from the oven, or presents first?”

"Pie for breakfast?" Draco asked scandalously. 

"It's your birthday." Harry shrugged. "It's not every day you turn nineteen."

"It does smell delicious” Draco turned towards where the pie sat on the counter with a wistful expression.

“Pie it is then.” Harry nodded, pulling the birthday candles out of his pocket as he made his way over to the counter. “Go ahead and sit down, I’ll bring it to you.”

He was gratified that Draco compiled without complaint, sitting in the chair with the balloons tied to the back. Harry hunted down plates and forks, setting them on the table before sticking the candles in the latticework pie crust and lighting them with a muttered spell. Once everything was set he turned around, feeling somewhat awkward about being the only person around to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ but he persisted. The expression on Draco’s face was worth the embarrassment as he carried the pie to the table. 

“Make a wish.” He sank into the closest chair, relieved to be done with the singing part.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, then blew out the candles with a wide grin on his face. 

“Can you do me a favor?” He asked.

“Sure.” Harry agreed eagerly.

“Don’t try to sing again. That was awful.” Draco laughed

“I make absolutely no promises.” Harry rolled his eyes as he removed the candles and cut the pie. 

“It was worth a shot.” 

“Eat your pie so you can open your presents.”

The pie was delicious. They both ate two slices before Draco wrapped the rest and put it away. When they were both settled with mugs of hot coffee Harry pushed the gift bag towards him.

“I kept the receipt, so if you don’t like it I can return it and get you something different.” Harry was nervous all of the sudden. 

“I loved your last gift.” Draco glanced over to where the black and silver tea set sat proudly on display. “You seem rather good at gift-giving.”

“I’d open it before making any judgments.” Harry grimaced. 

Draco delicately pulled out the sheets of tissue paper and grabbed the wallet first. He carefully unwrapped it and then turned it over in his hands experimentally.

“I figured you could use something to hold your muggle money in. Carrying it around in a big wad isn’t really the best idea. With this, people can’t see how much you actually have.” He explained in a rush as Draco examined the black leather and ran a finger over the intricate dragon design. 

“It’s fantastic, thank you.” Draco’s silver eyes smoldered and Harry couldn’t help the smile he felt growing on his face.

“Really?”

“I love it.” Draco assured him. 

“There’s more.” Harry motioned for him to dig deeper into the bag.

Draco gave him a fond, exasperated glare before pulling out more bunched up tissue paper. He gasped softly when he found the sleek black box, pulling it out of the bag with a flourish. 

“You didn’t-” He opened the lid excitedly and ran a finger along the rows of charcoal and pastel sticks. “They’re beautiful.”

“I thought-” he hesitated, trying to find the right way to express his feelings. “You said you stopped drawing after the war and picked up painting, and you’re super talented at both so I thought you might like using charcoal because it kind of combines the two. Best of both worlds, you know?” Harry scratched the back of his head anxiously, looking at the art kit instead of Draco.

Without warning his face was in Draco’s hands and he was being kissed soundly. He let out a moan of approval and immediately tangled his fingers in Draco’s hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Draco let him have his way for a moment but broke the kiss much too soon.

“It’s absolutely perfect.” He smiled, picking the box back up and studying the sticks. “They are really good quality, Harry. How much did you spend on these?"

"Enough." Harry said evasively. "There's one more thing in the bag."

"You spoil me." Draco huffed, reaching into the bag and rooting around in the bottom. He seemed put out when he couldn't find anything and then gave a soft cry of victory when he found it sitting vertically along the side of the bag. He pulled out the large book and ran his hand across the textured pages.

"It's paper that is specifically designed for charcoal so it doesn't smudge so easily." Harry watched Draco's face as he explored the sketchbook with fervor.

"Thank you." Draco breathed, leaving the book open and pulling out a charcoal pencil to test it out.

Harry watched in amazement as Draco quickly sketched out a view of the ocean at sunset with quick, sure movements. 

"Wow." He said before he could stop himself.

"I know, these are phenomenal. Thank you so much."

"They're only as good as the artist that holds them." Harry admonished before draining the last of his coffee. "Ready to go? We've got a full day ahead of us."

"Let me finish getting ready." Draco pushed back from the table, casting his charcoal drawing one last critical glance before giving Harry his favorite half-smile. "I'll be back in a minute."

As soon as Draco left the kitchen Harry started cleaning up their celebratory mess; washing the pie dishes and picking up the discarded tissue paper until everything was as pristine as when he walked in. Just as he was putting the last fork away the gleam of the stars on the teapot he had given Draco caught his eye. When he bought it he hadn’t expected Draco to like it enough to leave it on display. He wandered over to the counter and picked up the closest cup, smiling down at the Regulus constellation. The tea set brought up a strange wave of emotion and Harry realized just how strong his feelings had been for Draco before he even realized he had them. He jumped when a woman's voice called from the living room and he laughed at himself for being so easily startled. He gently set the cup back on its saucer and went to investigate the source of the noise. 

“Draco?” the voice called and Harry recognized it as belonging to Narcissa.

Sure enough, when he went into Draco’s living room Narcissa’s head was floating in the fireplace against the North wall.

“Oh, hello Harry.” She smiled when she caught sight of him. “How are you faring today?”

“I’m doing fantastic.” He grinned, kneeling in front of the flames so he could talk to her properly. “You look as lovely as ever. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you. Is Draco around? I wanted to wish him a happy birthday.”

“He’s upstairs getting ready, I’m taking him out for the day. Do you want me to go get him?”

“I’m perfectly content chatting with you until he is available.” She winked. 

"You honor me." He smiled as warm affection for the witch swelled.

“I only speak the truth. So, tell me how this all came about!” She grinned conspiratorially at him.

“How what came ab-oh!” Harry blushed when he caught her meaning. “You’re talking about me and Draco?”

“Of course I mean you and Draco.” She laughed. “I am extremely happy for you.”

“Thank you.” He felt his ears turn red. Was it weird to be talking with her like this about her son? “I’m not really sure, actually. It all happened rather quickly. I just realized I liked him; I came to confront him about my feelings for him and he told me he liked me- then in classic Draco fashion he called me a few names and I kissed him.”

“Well, it’s about time.” Narcissa beamed. “I was beginning to worry you two would never figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Draco’s voice sounded behind him and Harry shuffled over to make room for him. “Good morning, Mother.”

“That you boys are crazy about each other. Just about everyone knew except you two.” She teased. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Ah, I see.” Draco smiled, then gave his mother an accusatory glower. “Wait, are you telling me you and father knew Harry liked me too?”

“We did.” Narcissa simpered unabashedly. 

“Salazar, why didn’t you say anything?” Draco griped.

“You wouldn’t have believed us. You boys had to figure it out for yourselves.” She said sagely.

“All's well that ends well, I suppose.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Indeed.” Narcissa fixed her son with a fond glare. “I hear you have a big day planned so I won’t keep you too much longer. Do you want to join us for dinner, Harry? I would be delighted to have you over.” 

“I would love to, thank you.” Harry said with a strange feeling of nervousness. 

This was only their second date and he was already having dinner with the family? He suddenly cast a worried glance at Draco, unsure if he should have accepted Narcissa’s invitation without making sure Draco was comfortable with it first. He was smirking at his mother as they shared a few more pleasantries so Harry hoped it was fine. When she finally bade them farewell and the last emerald flames faded from the grate they both stood up, brushing shoulders.

“Was that alright?” Harry bit his lower lip anxiously.

“What, answering my floo call or chatting with my mother?” Draco seemed amused.

“Er, both?” Harry flushed.

“Yes, it’s fine. I know you two have a weird friendship going on and I don’t intend on interfering with it.” Draco sighed in mock exasperation. 

“And you don’t mind me coming to dinner?” Harry had to make sure.

“Mind? Of course not. I was going to invite you myself.” Draco reached out and gently stroked his face from temple to jaw.

“You were?” Draco’s hand left a trail of heat on his skin that made Harry crave more.

“I was.” Draco laughed. “Now, I believe you promised me a grand outing?”

“I did.” Harry felt a mischievous grin spreading across his lips as he offered Draco his arm. "Shall we?"


End file.
